


(don't) give up on me

by galacticAcolyte (coffee_goth)



Series: cork tree-verse [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: A WHOLE LOT OF DRAMA, Alternate Universe - High School, Cheesy, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Humanstuck, Self-Indulgent, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Unrequited Love, alllllll the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_goth/pseuds/galacticAcolyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it’s damn near impossible being in love with your best friend.<br/>*<br/>and she's his best friend. <i> just </i>his best friend.</p><p>because everyone knows that one plus one equals two, but what if it's the wrong two? and what if the other ones get their hearts broken? and what if they find someone that understands, the other abandoned one, the discarded puzzle piece that knows exactly how they're feeling? eridan and aradia might be broken, but maybe they're broken together. maybe they can un-break each other.</p><p>maybe this is their second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. only liars, but we're the best

_It’s just past eight and I’m feeling young and reckless_  
 _The ribbon on my wrist says “do not open until Christmas”_  
 _Only liars, but we’re the best._

_-Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued_

It’s only when a melody twists its way into her cloudy dreams that Aradia Megido wakes. She lashes out blindly, slapping in the general direction of her nightstand until her hand finds contact and the rock song cuts off. She rolls over, burying her head under a pillow.

Somebody downstairs shouts in Japanese—a curse word, no doubt—and Aradia sighs, admitting defeat. She throws the pillow off and sits up, untamed curls hanging in her face and striping her vision with chestnut-brown strands. It smells like something’s burning downstairs.

“Ugh,” Aradia mutters articulately, and pulls herself to her feet with reluctance.

It’s too bright out for 6 AM. Sunlight pours through the gauzy drapes, and Aradia blinks and throws a hand over her eyes to block the light out. She still isn’t completely adjusted to the early-morning schedule of high school, even though it started two weeks ago.

Damara yells something else in Japanese, and Aradia catches the word “リトルビッチ”—“little bitch.” She sighs again and tugs her t-shirt over her head.

When she gets downstairs, fully dressed and her hair somewhat tamed, Damara is standing in the kitchen holding a burned plate of toast. The shards of a mug lie in a puddle of coffee around her feet.

“ヤギ性交行く,” Damara tells her.

Aradia rolls her eyes. “Where’s mom?”

She doesn’t expect a semi-literate answer, and she doesn’t get one. Damara spits something else in Japanese while Aradia pours what’s left in the coffee pot into a dirty mug. She already knows her mother’s activities are most likely something she doesn’t want to know about. Aradia sees her mother’s face about twice a month. She suspects she’s secretly a murderess or a thug, a sneaky, silent one who stabs out peoples’ eyes with those needles she always has stuck in her hair.

Damara bitches about her sex life while Aradia devours a bagel and swings her school bag over her shoulder. She can’t get out the door quick enough. Her sister never knows when to shut up.

A car horn blares at her the moment she sets foot outside the house, and she laughs loudly, finally able to be happy for the first time since she woke up that morning. “Shut up, I’m coming!” she yells as she runs towards the piece of crap her best friend calls his car.

Sollux is blaring some loud classic rock CD when Aradia slides into the passenger seat, the cracked vinyl rubbing against her tights-clad thighs. He looks over at her and grins. “Morning, aa.”

“Morning, Sollux,” Aradia says with a wide smile.

It’s one of the many, many advantages to having a best friend that lives literally next door to her—Aradia gets rides to and from school with Sollux every day. She’s begun to value them more and more as their lives have gotten busier and more complicated. Sollux has been her best friend for as long as she can remember.

“I heard Damara yelling from all the way out here,” comments Sollux as he puts his shitty 50-year-old car into drive. It groans loudly and the engine sputters before it rolls out onto the street.

Aradia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she’s got problems. Don’t ask me what they are, though. I barely understand her half the time.”

“I don’t get your sister.” Sollux revs the engine and speeds off down the street. The car bumps unpleasantly, the ancient shocks worn out so much that Aradia jolts in her seat.

She laughs. “To be honest, neither do I.”

Outside her window, the main street of Cork Tree, Connecticut rolls by: the library, the coffee shop, the one-screen movie theater that shows old black and white reels on Thursday nights. It’s barely changed since the first time she saw it when she was three. That’s the way it is in her sleepy New England town—nothing ever changes. There’s one high school, one church, a supermarket, the movie theater and a handful of restaurants and stores, and a bunch of bored teenagers with cabin fever.

“How’s your junior year going?” Sollux asks.

Aradia pulls a face. “Alright. I’d probably stop going to school if it wasn’t for you and Tavros and everyone. You’re the only good part about this town.”

Sollux laughs, a right sound that cuts through the music. His hand lands on her knee reassuringly. “Right back at you, aa.”

Aradia can feel her face begin to heat up. Sparks shoot into her bloodstream and across her eyes. It’s not enough, but she’ll take what she can get.

The high school is a hulking prison of red brick and glass at the end of Main Street. It’s swarming with cars that gleam like shiny-shelled beetles in the full morning sunlight. Aradia’s walked the halls of that building for the past two years, and she detests it with all her heart.

“Another day in purgatory,” Sollux says. He smiles grimly.

“Another day closer to freedom,” Aradia reminds him.

Sollux chuckles. “That’s a better way to look at it, I guess.” He pulls into his parking spot and cuts the engine with a loud sputter. “Come on. We’ve got a chem quiz first period.”

The sunlight and Sollux’s mindless chatter fill Aradia with warmth. She wishes she could stay out here, but Sollux is right—she really does need to do well on this quiz. Chem is her bad subject. She spends one last moment in the autumn sunshine, knowing it’ll have to last her the rest of the day under fluorescent lighting, before delving into the crowd swarming the entrance to the school.

There’s a familiar figure at Aradia’s locker when she and Sollux walk in. She grins and runs over to the boy. “Tavros!”

Tavros grins and accepts her hug as best he can from his wheelchair. “Oh, hey, Aradia.”

“You weren’t online last night!” Aradia frowns. “Where were you? I thought we were going to go after that final boss in the FLARP campaign.”

He blushes bashfully. “Sorry. Uh, I was at the doctor’s. They’re trying to get prosthetics for, um, you know.” He gestures at his legs.

Aradia’s face lights up. “That’s fantastic, Tavros! I’m so happy for you!” She knows it’s been hard for him being bound to a wheelchair because of an accident that happened when he was young, especially since high school started, but she’d never love him any less for it.

He tells her more about it as she roots through her locker for her books—how they’re going to custom-build him metal legs, and if the experiments and tests go well, they might be able to function just like real legs. “Nobody could ever tell the difference,” he tells her proudly. Aradia shoots him a fond smile while Sollux claps him on the back.

She takes hold of the handles of his wheelchair and begins to navigate through the congested halls, Sollux right behind her. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your first class.”

*

Aradia’s pretty sure she failed the chem quiz, because she’d spent the time she was supposed to be studying the night before playing FLARP and chatting with Sollux. She’d never admit it, but she’s kind of glad. It means she’ll have an excuse to ask Sollux to help her with the unit. It’s not like she doesn’t spend almost all of her free time with him anyway, but studying with him makes her feel warm inside. She loves the way he leans over her, his chin propped on her shoulder and his arm slung casually around her to point at things on a page full of words she doesn’t understand. She spends more time studying the lines of Sollux’s hand than the textbook, but that doesn’t matter.

“That was easy,” Sollux says as soon as the bell rings. He stretches his long arms, his shoulder blades squeezing together. He nudges her. “How’d you do?”

“Terrible,” Aradia says brightly.

Her next subject is gym, and it’s one of the only classes that she doesn’t have with him. Consequently, it’s one of her least favorite classes. It would be even if he was in it, but the absence of Sollux’s deprecating comments about everyone else and secret, sparing smiles intended just for her make it even worse.

She’s not _bad_ at P.E., per se, but she hates the people in the class. Namely, she doesn’t like Feferi Peixes and her loud, bubbly group of friends, who spend the class running around the track in their ridiculously tiny shorts and generally looking like Californian swimsuit models. Aradia spends the class sitting in the bleachers most days, because she couldn’t give two shits about gym class.

Today is no different. While Feferi dashes around the track, her thick black ponytail swishing, Aradia lies back on the burning metal and lets the sun soak her arms. Nobody bothers her, and that’s the way she likes it.

She’s sinking into a daydream before she even realizes it. It revolves around Sollux sneaking in through her window in the middle of the night and—

A shadow falls across Aradia’s warm sunlight, and she opens one eye, her face already scrunched into a scowl. Feferi Peixes stands above her in all her glory, hands on her hips and mouth curved into an exuberant grin.

“ _Hey!_ Aradia, right?” she says. “Why don’t you come run with us?”

“What do you want?” Aradia groans.

Her disapproving grimace does nothing to dissuade Feferi. “You just look so _lonely_ lying over here all on your own! You should come run with us, it’s a lot of fun!”

“I’m sleeping,” Aradia protests.

Feferi giggles. Her laugh is high-pitched and grating. “Come on, it’s gym class! You can’t spend the whole time lying here!”

Aradia throws a hand over her face. “Try and stop me.”

She waits, but she can still feel Feferi’s shadow on her legs like a heavy, chilling blanket. Finally, she sits up with an elongated sigh and grits her teeth.

“What do you _want,_ Feferi?”

Feferi sits down next to her, her tan legs swinging. “You’re friends with Sollux Captor, right?”

“Sollux?” Aradia asks incredulously. “What do you want with Sollux?”

The other girl waves her hand impatiently. “He helps me with homework sometimes. Are you his girlfriend?”

“ _What?_ ” Aradia splutters.

She can feel her hands shaking against her thighs. Feferi laughs again. Aradia kind of wants to punch her. “Are you guys dating? I just see you together in the hallways all the time, and you seem close, so I—“

“No,” Aradia cuts her off. “No. No, we’re definitely not dating. He’s just my friend.”

Feferi’s expression changes for the first time since she came over, and now she’s staring at Aradia with confusion and more than a bit of hurt. Aradia realizes belatedly she probably said that with more venom than she needed to.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “But no, Sollux doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

She wants to die.

Feferi blinks, and then chirps “Great! It was awesome talking to you!” and bounces away.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” Aradia mutters.

*

French and English are easy, but she barely makes it through precalc alive. She isn’t badat it; numbers just bore her to death. She spends the block doodling skulls in the margins of her notebook and flicking bits of paper at Sollux until he turns around and sticks his tongue out at her.

It’s the promise of lunch that pulls her through, and by the time the bell rings, she’s ready to dash out of the room and to the cafeteria as quickly as she can. Sollux takes his time, though. When she stops by his desk, he’s saying goodbye to, of all people, Feferi Peixes.

“See you tomorrow!” she exclaims with an unnaturally wide grin. Sollux smiles—actually _smiles_ —back at her before turning to Aradia.

“What’d she want?” asks Aradia.

Sollux shoulders his backpack and turns towards the door. “Not much. I’m gonna start tutoring her in precalc tomorrow, though. She wanted to know when we’re meeting.”

“You’re tutoring her?” At least now Aradia knows why Feferi was so interested in Sollux, though she still doesn’t understand her strange line of questioning.

Sollux nods. “I know, it’s weird. I think the teacher recommended it. She’s nice, though, aa. You should try getting to know her. She’s really funny.”

“Yeah, great,” Aradia mutters. She wonders if Sollux would think it was funny if she punched Feferi’s stupid perfect face in the middle of the lunch room.

The cafeteria is crowded and loud like usual, but Sollux and Aradia navigate their way through the lunch line and to their normal table in the corner without too much difficulty. Vriska Serket doesn’t spare Aradia her daily catcall of “Hey, Megido, sacrifice any dead babies to Satan recently?” Aradia’s learned to ignore her by now. Vriska’s a bitch to just about everyone.

Their table is two-thirds empty, as usual, but four of the seats are taken up with familiar figures. As they near the table, Nepeta squeals with excitement and waves at them.

“Hiii!” she trills as they sit down. She’s perched on her seat as usual, her legs folded beneath her like a cat so her tiny figure is at eye level with the rest of them. Even so, she only comes up to the shoulder of the boy sitting next to her. That’s just because Equius is so big, though.

“Hush,” he tells Nepeta fondly. “There’s no need to grow so excited. You saw Aradia and Sollux yesterday.”

“It’s alright,” Aradia laughs. “Hey, Nepeta! What’s up? How’s Meulin?”

Nepeta grins, showing her strangely sharp little teeth. Her eyes slide into slits. “She’s purr-fect! Busy with boring college things, but good!”

Aradia giggles. College is something Damara hadn’t even thought about, much less something their mother would have paid for. Sometimes she envies Nepeta’s family. She, too, lives with only her mother, but Mrs. Leijon is a warm and loving woman, and Nepeta’s gorgeous sister Meulin is both smart and sweet. It’s nothing like the relationship she has with her own mother and Damara.

“She’s studying to be a veterinarian, right?” Sollux asks, his mouth full of pizza.

Nepeta nods. “I think so! Unless Kurloz tries to change her mind, of course…”

She shoots a furtive, anxious glance across the cafeteria to where Gamzee Makara, the brother of Meulin’s boyfriend Kurloz, sits. Kurloz had always creeped Aradia out the few times she’d met him, but Gamzee seemed fairly harmless. At least, he was pretty close friends with Tavros, and that was good enough for Aradia. Plus, anyone who sat with Jade Harley at lunch couldn’t be _too_ bad.

A visible shudder runs down Nepeta’s spine, and Aradia quickly changes the topic. “What’s up, John? You’re quiet today.”

The sixth member of their table, John Egbert, looks up, his black hair messy as always and his cerulean eyes bright behind chunky glasses. “What?” he asks thickly.

Aradia clicks her tongue and smoothes down his hair. “Did you stay up too late again? You need sleep, you know.”

“I _know,_ mom.” John bats her hand away but grins fondly all the same. “Yeah, I guess I was up a little too late. But I’m okay.”

He falls into silence again, his eyes focused on some point in the distance. A tiny, dreamy smile crosses his face.

Sollux groans loudly. “Dude, not _her_ again.”

Aradia follows John’s line of sight to where it rests on a mop of brown hair atop a skinny, spiderlike body. Vriska Serket sits at the other end of the cafeteria, her back to them, but John watches her as if her shoulders are the most fascinating sight he’s ever seen.

“She doesn’t even notice,” he sighs despondently. “She never will.”

Aradia is hit with a sudden, overwhelming need to hug John. Because more than anyone else, she knows exactly how that feels—to know that you’re the last person they would ever think of romantically; and no matter how close you get, they’ll never see you.

“It’s _Vriska Serket,_ ” Sollux exclaims. “She’d rather rip your head off and eat your carcass than date you.”

“That’s a rather flawed assumption,” Equius interjects.

Sollux looks suddenly apologetic. “Oh, sorry, Eq. I forgot she was your neighbor.”

Equius smiles and shakes his head. “I simply meant to add that, judging from personal experience, she would probably rather drink your blood first.”

“Okay, okay!” John holds up his hands defensively. “We get it. I’m an idiot, Vriska’s a bitch. But really, she’s an _amazing_ bitch…”

“And you’re an amazing idiot,” Sollux mutters darkly.

John lapses into silence, staring at Vriska’s table again, and Aradia’s gaze follows his. To her disgust, Feferi is sitting next to her, her shiny black hair bouncing as she bobs her head in excitement. As Aradia watches, the boy sitting next to her turns his head to look out at the full cafeteria. His gaze catches on Aradia’s.

Sollux nudges her gently. “Whatcha staring at, aa?”

The guy breaks his gaze and turns back to his own table, focusing his attention on Feferi once more. Aradia recognizes him, but she couldn’t say what his name was. It’s something pretentious and fancy, that’s all she can remember.

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just tired.”

Sollux furrows his brow. His eyes are beautiful, brown and concerned behind his glasses. “Is something wrong?”

_Yes,_ Aradia wants to say. _Yes, I’m keeping the biggest secret of my life from my best friend and it physically hurts not to be able to tell you._

“No,” she says brightly, and turns back to her lunch.

*

Her favorite class is right after lunch. Sollux isn’t in it—in fact, none of her friends are—but it barely even matters. History is so fascinating to her that she doesn’t even notice their absence.

She slides into her seat well before the bell rings and pulls out her notebook, her pen poised at the top of a fresh page. A sense of relief washes over her. She’s made it this far through the school day, at least, and now she’s safe for another forty minutes.

Her desk jerks suddenly, and she looks up, startled. There’s an angry black slash across the page from where her pen had jolted. The nameless boy from Feferi’s table at lunch, his blond hair carefully styled and a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, is passing by and laughing loudly at something another girl had said. There’s an obnoxious purple streak running through the front of his hair.

“Douche,” Aradia mutters. He doesn’t hear her, or else he doesn’t care.

The teacher breezes in moments before the bell, his hat tilted at an angle and his tie straightened as always. He sets down his coffee cup and barks “How many of you actually did your homework?”

A multitude of hands shoot up, Aradia’s included. It didn’t seem to satisfy the teacher, though, because he yells “Ampora!”

After he doesn’t get an answer, he rolls his eyes and snaps “Eridan, will you shut your mouth for one minute and pay attention?”

_Eridan._ That was his name. Sounds like a name for a douchebag, Aradia thinks as Eridan looks up and drawls “Yes, Diamonds?”

“That’s Mr. Droogs to you, Ampora,” the teacher growls. “I take it you were too good to do your homework again?”

Eridan shakes his head and smirks. “Sorry, Mr. Droogs. My dog ate it.”

The class bursts into laughter, and Eridan basks in the attention. Aradia doesn’t get why everyone’s so amused. It’s not like Eridan’s actually funny.

Mr. Droogs doesn’t think so, either, because he yells “Shut up, Ampora.”

The class falls silent. Droogs might seem like a crabby, informal teacher on the surface, but he gets scarily angry. He’s nice to Aradia, though, kind of like he’s taken her under his wing. Aradia thinks she’s the only student in the school who genuinely likes him.

“That’s better,” he says, glaring at Eridan. Eridan just stares back calmly, his violet gaze level and condescending. _How stuck up can you get?_ “Now, if everyone can remember for a damn minute that we are in a place called _history class_ …”

Aradia keeps her head down and scribbles while Eridan cackles away with his friend in the corner. She grits her teeth and soldiers on.

*

Sollux meets her outside of her last-period art class. Her hair is tied up in a sloppy bun, and her hands are smeared with multicolored paint. She blushes. She must look terrible.

“Lookin’ great,” Sollux laughs, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart beats its’ way into her throat.

He tells her about his classes that day as they make their way to his car: his gym class had sucked as usual, and all he’d done to pass the time was walk Tavros around the track in his wheelchair; English was boring and he hated the people in his class; history was okay, but he’d need her help with the chapter if he wanted to pass the unit; and tech and computer science was his favorite as always. Aradia’s content to listen to him ramble about their school’s bullshit. Hell, she’d probably listen to him recite the dictionary and never get bored.

“You need to get dropped off at work?” Sollux asks as he unlocks the car.

Aradia sighs and shoves her hair back from her forehead. “Yeah. Same as always.”

Whatever her mother does all day, it doesn’t bring in enough money for the necessities, and the concept of “work” is completely foreign to Damara, so Aradia’s usually the one who buys things like milk and toothpaste and laundry detergent for her family. Her mother covers the bills for the house, at least, but Aradia still got a job three years before she was legally supposed to. She was a mature thirteen-year-old. She knew there was no way she’d be able to afford to go to college if she didn’t do something for herself about it.

The Cherub Diner is a tiny, `50’s style diner on Main Street. Its’ owner, Calliope English, is probably the sweetest woman Aradia has ever met. She’d been born with extensive birthmarks and tissue scarring that deformed her face, but she never let it stop her—from running the diner and from being friends with everyone in town. The diner itself is kind of cheesy, though, she has to admit. Every time Aradia slips on the pink blouse and bubblegum-colored roller skates, she feels herself lose a bit of her soul.

Still, it isn’t bad. She gets tired roller skating around serving milkshakes six hours a day, of course, but the customers tip well and she’d never had any trouble. Calliope gave her time off whenever she needed it, which wasn’t often, and really, Aradia couldn’t ask for anything better in her town.

The diner is mostly empty when she pushes open the door. It’s before the after school rush really starts, so the only people there are Calliope behind the counter in the center and a few people scattered throughout the red vinyl booths. Calliope waves to her when Aradia comes in, smiling brightly.

“How was school, love?” she asks with a hint of a British accent.

“Alright,” Aradia answers, slinging her school bag onto a chair. “Long, boring. But everyone is good.”

Calliope grins, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s good to hear. How’s Sollux? I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

“Busy,” Aradia sighs.

And so is the diner. When Aradia comes out after getting changed, the counter and the booths are filling up with loud, energetic teenagers that Aradia recognizes from school. With a long-suffering sigh, she laces up her roller skates and skates off towards the first table.

She’s dead on her feet by five o’clock when the door swings open once again and another group of chattering students bursts in. She glances up, shoving her bangs out of her face, to be caught in Eridan Ampora’s piercing violet gaze.

_Oh, great._

Eridan doesn’t seem to recognize her, because he looks away after a moment. To her disgust, Aradia sees Feferi is next to him, her hand on his elbow and her mouth moving a mile a minute. There’s a gaggle of teens behind them—she recognizes the prim, sharp figure of Rose Lalonde, her blonde hair pushed back with a lavender headband, and her brother Dave. Kanaya Maryam is hanging off her other arm, looking perfect and haughty as always, and Vriska is lounging at the back boredly as if she’d rather be anywhere but where she is now.

Aradia turns away, hoping Calliope or another waiter can deal with them, but before she can escape Feferi calls “Aradia! _Hey!_ ”

She turns back slowly, gritting her teeth. “Hey, Feferi.”

Eridan smiles condescendingly. “Who’s your friend, Fef?” He speaks with a strange, wavy-sounding accent. It makes him sound even more stupid.

“I’m not her friend,” Aradia mutters, but Feferi speaks over her.

“This is Aradia Megido. I’m sure you’ve seen her around, right, Eridan?”

Vriska grins at her. Her face is sharp and without any trace of kindness. “Heeeeeeeey, Megido. What are you doing here?” She stretches the word “hey” out until it’s almost unrecognizable.

“I work here,” Aradia says shortly. “Let me find you a table.”

They leave her alone once she gets them seated at a booth in the farthest corner away from her. With any luck, another waiter will have the patience to deal with them, and she won’t have to endure Feferi’s stupidly gorgeous face or Eridan’s scornful grin or Vriska’s sharp, grating cackle any longer. Anyway, she’s only stuck here for the next…

Two and a half hours. Great.

*

When Aradia gets home after a twenty-minute town bus ride and a half-hour walk, all she wants to do is collapse on her bed and never wake up. But she’s got hours of homework left to do, so she forces herself to ingest whatever food is in the refrigerator and avoid Damara’s shouts and curses long enough to take a shower and hole herself up in her bedroom, safe from her mother’s rage-filled tirades whenever she gets home.

Her laptop dings with a new message as soon as she’s cracked open her chemistry textbook. She can see the flashing signature mustard-yellow font from her bed—Sollux. A grin spreads across her face of its’ own accord.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] at 22:13 –  
TA: how wa2 work?  


Aradia throws aside her textbook. It’s not like she’ll be able to concentrate, anyway.

AA: terrible as always  
AA: n0thing different but i d0nt kn0w what else i expected  
AA: y0ur new friend came in t0 visit  
TA: my new friiend?  
AA: feferi peixes  
AA: she and her wh0le ent0urage  
AA: eridan and r0se and kanaya and vriska and dave  
AA: it was a pain in the ass  
TA: oh yeah, must’ve been the 2tudent counciil meeting 2he was talkiing about  
AA: since when is vriska serket 0n student c0uncil  
TA: ii dunno what her deal ii2  
TA: ii thiink 2he’2 ju2t there for ky  
AA: well shes a bitch  
AA: theyre all bitches  
AA: except maybe dave hes funny  


It’s true, Dave isn’t so bad. He’s not a jerk to her, for one; and he’s close with John, so he can’t be too bad. He was in her algebra class the year before, and he’s actually funny—not fake-funny like his idiot friends.

TA: cc’s not bad  
AA: wh0s cc  
TA: or ff ii gue22  
TA: feferii  
TA: iit’2 her chumhandle  
TA: cuttlefii2hculler  


Aradia physically feels her expression fall. What had been a grin seconds ago flatlines into a closed-lipped grimace. She pecks out her next words violently, her fingers attacking the keys like they were Feferi’s face.

AA: thats a dumb handle  
AA: whats it even mean  
TA: ii don’t know but ii think it’2 cute  


She backspaces over the words “0f c0urse y0u d0” before her finger can land on the enter key.

AA: i like 0urs better  
AA: matching chumhandles remember  
TA: of cour2e ii do, how could ii forget?  


They’d picked them out together when they were thirteen. They made their accounts together, of course. Back then, they did everything together. Apocalypse and Armageddons, partners in crime.

TA: and neiither of u2 ever changed our2, eiither  
TA: that’2 pretty cool iif you a2k me  


Aradia giggles. She can’t help it; sometimes Sollux is just so incredibly dorky and adorable that she has to.

AA: yeah  
AA: it is  
AA: ive g0t t0 get back t0 my h0mew0rk n0w ugh  
AA: but ill see y0u t0m0rr0w  
TA: briight and early, 2un2hiine  
AA: haha yeah  
TA: niight,aa  
TA: <>   


It’s just a stupid symbol they made up when they were younger. Two matching, corresponding halves, like they were. A diamond, because diamonds are unbreakable. They last forever. Aradia and Sollux still type it at each other whenever they say goodbye. Old habits die hard, she guesses.

AA: g00dnight s0llux  
AA: <>   
twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling apocalypseArisen [AA] at 22: 25

Aradia closes the laptop with a sigh. Then she slams her head down on top of it, her breaths coming fast and hard. There are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and she doesn’t know where they came from or why they’re there.

That’s a lie. She absolutely does know.

It’s because it’s damn near impossible being in love with your best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pure, self-indulgent crack, i tell you. i hope it's not too terrible. i just needed to write highschoolstuck and god knows this pairing needs more love.
> 
> ~~edit: anyone know how to do the font colors for the pesterlogs on this thing cause my html code aint working~~ thank you to the amazing draftpirate for setting me straight!


	2. now i only waste it dreaming of you

_I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive; now I only waste it dreaming of you_

_-Of All the Gin Joints in the World_

Eridan Ampora swears at the blaring alarm clock and bashes it with a fist before rolling over and cocooning himself in his purple duvet. He can barely form a coherent thought, and he mentally curses whatever douchebag decided school needs to start so early.  There’s sleep crusted around the edges of his eyes and he hates life and god can’t he just skip school? It’s not like they learn anything important there.

He’s about to go back to sleep, like he deserves, when Cronus hammers on the door.

“Where are ya?” he shouts.

“Go away!” Eridan yells back, and reluctantly untangles himself from his warm nest.

He hears Cronus chuckle derisively outside his door. “You ain’t got time to pull this shit.”

“Go away, fucker.”

“Swearin’ ain’t couth, little bro.”

Eridan ignores him.

He’s glad Cronus woke him up, of course. Otherwise, he’d never have time to dress meticulously in his casually expensive outfit, style his hair to perfection, and message Feferi while shoveling breakfast down his throat. It takes time and effort looking this good, but it’s an effort he’s willing to make.

He has to rush, but he saunters out the door exactly on time, his swagger practiced and perfected long ago. The car he got a year ago for his sixteenth birthday—a shiny, black Mercedes—beeps cheerily at him as he unlocks it. The scent of new leather still lingers pleasantly in the air when he slides into the driver’s seat. It purrs to life like some great, mysterious jungle beast, and Eridan smiles to himself in satisfaction. God _damn,_ does he love his car.

He peels out of his driveway cleanly and drives off down the road. It’s lined with large, white houses with porches and multi-car ports and sweeping green lawns. Eridan misses the city that he barely remembers, but he likes it here too, where he’s got his own massive bedroom and spot in his garage and pool in his backyard and personal gym. And he’s got his friends—Rose and Kanaya and Dave, and Fef, of course.

It’s not like he never sees the city, anyway. His dad still commutes down there every morning, in his fancy personally-tailored suits with his Armani briefcase and million-dollar car. He hit it rich on the stock market when he was young, ascended quickly to the head of his company, and got married to some sexy young broad, which is where Eridan and Cronus came from. When they got divorced, Eridan’s mom kept the apartment and his dad moved them out here, to Cork Tree, aka Nowhere, New England. Whatever. He’s making the best of it. It isn’t so bad here, except for the fact that there’s absolutely fucking nothing to do.

It isn’t perfect. Of course it isn’t. His life is barely even good. People thought that just because his daddy was rich, he got everything handed to him on a silver platter, but that absolutely was not true. He still had to buy his own computer—which was goddamn expensive. He still had to suffer through high school with the rest of the mud-brained peasants in the town. And he still had problems like every other teen.

Problems like Feferi Peixes.

Just thinking about Feferi makes Eridan run a hand through his hair reflexively to make sure it looks perfect. He practices his laugh, frowns, and then laughs again, trying to make it sound brighter, sexier, more alluring. The friend zone is a hard place to get himself out of, but fuck it, he’s trying as hard as he can. Feferi is too good to pass up for a stupid reason like the fact that they’ve been best friends since kindergarten.

Fef is perfection, with her dark and shiny hair, her perfectly tan skin and her stunning purple eyes. Not to mention her body—god _damn,_ that’s a whole other subject. But that’s not why Eridan is so admittedly obsessed with her. If looks were the only thing that mattered to him, he’d have been sleeping with Vriska Serket a long time ago, no matter how much they hated each other.

(He _had_ slept with Vriska Serket a couple times, but that’s irrelevant.)

No, Feferi’s the only one who will put up with everything. She’s always been there for him, and she’s got the sweetest personality Eridan’s ever come across, and she’s so fucking gorgeous that it physically hurts him sometimes when he looks at her.

And, Eridan reminds himself, she’s his best friend. _Just_ his best friend.

But he’s going to change that.

The school’s crowded when he pulls in, but he paid to have a parking spot at the front of the school reserved for him. Dave Strider’s out front, smoking, with Jade Harley hanging off one arm and a bored-looking Karkat Vantas slouched on his other side. Gamzee’s probably toking up behind the school, but Dave’s brave enough to do it out in public, at least. He raises his chin in a silent, cool-kid “hey” when Eridan passes by on the way to the school doors.

Feferi assaults him before he’s barely even into the foyer, her thick hair swinging and her eyes bright. “ _Eridan!_ ” she squeals, stretching out the ‘E’ like she does when she’s excited.

Eridan catches her gently in his arms and absorbs the brunt of her excited energy. “What’s up, Fef?”

In the background, Rose, Kanaya and Vriska materialize out of the throng as Feferi chirps “The Homecoming plans got passed! The Student Council gets to start putting it together today!”

“Aw, that’s great, Fef!” Eridan says with a grin. To be honest, he couldn’t really give a shit about the Homecoming dance, but it was Feferi’s baby, and he knows that she’s really excited about it. What makes Fef happy makes him happy.

Vriska stalks up behind Feferi, her signature sneer already in place. “Ampora,” she says in her ugly, scratchy voice.

“Serket,” Eridan replies, lifting an eyebrow.

Feferi rolls her eyes. “Don’t be _stupid_ , you guys! Can’t you get along for my sake, at least?”

“That’s the only reason I even try,” grumbles Eridan under his breath.

Rose smirks at him. Secretly, Eridan gets the feeling that none of them really like him; but at least Rose and Kanaya make an effort, if only for Feferi’s sake. “You’re still coming to the meeting after school, right?” she asks primly.

“ A’ course I am,” Eridan replies. “Like hell I’m gonna let you run Student Council without someone to keep you in check.”

Rose looks like she’s going to retort, but the bell blasts through her voice, and Feferi rushes off down the hallway, shouting “I’ve got to get to English!” over her shoulder.

“See you, Eridan,” Rose says, her black-painted lips curving into a sassy smirk. “Don’t want to be late.”

*

Eridan spends his first-block French class staring at the clock mounted above the door and wondering why it isn’t moving any faster. There’s no one to talk to but Vriska, who is hilariously terrible at speaking French because she doesn’t even care, so Eridan naturally laughs at her every time she tries to speak. This just makes her even more angry until she starts swearing at him in French—the only thing she’s good at in the whole damn language—and catches the attention of the gorgeous young teacher, Miss Black, who’d earned the nickname Snowman for her frosty demeanor. Snowman gives her the stink eye but doesn’t get mad because for some strange reason Vriska is her favorite, and Eridan somehow drifts off into a daydream about both of them that probably isn’t appropriate for school. Thank god Vriska and Snowman can’t hear his thoughts.

Physics is dry and boring. He doesn’t even have Vriska to distract him through that, so he stares boredly around the classroom and tries to figure out who the ugliest person in the room is. He’ll just get Rose to explain whatever he was supposed to be learning about at lunch.

He likes Government, at least. It’s kind of fun learning about how to rule a country. Eridan thinks he’d make a good ruler; Gove is his best subject, and he has plenty of great ideas for laws and ways to rule and new forms of government. He wonders if there’s an easy way to become the prince of a small country somewhere. Feferi could be his princess. She’d be a wonderful queen—or even an empress, if they conquered enough land. And they definitely could, because together, Eridan and Feferi are an unstoppable force.

Gov ends after they basically learn about why it’s not a good idea to become dictator of a small country, which Eridan mostly tunes out of because what do teachers know about ruling countries, anyway, if they can’t even keep a goddamn class in check half the time. Then he’s got English, which is just bullshit.

He walks into his English classroom tired and deflated and sure it’s going to be hell. Rose is in this one, but a. she sits at the opposite end of the room and b. she actually fucking enjoys the class for some mysterious, unknown reason, so she’s not exactly going to talk to him.

Eridan sighs resignedly and crashes into his seat at the back. The guy who sits next to him glances up and makes a face. He’s one of those gangly, geeky kids, like he’d grown up but not out when he hit puberty. His hands and feet are too big for his body, and he has the most ridiculous pair of glasses Eridan has ever seen—one side of the frame is red, and the other is blue.

“What are you starin’ at?” Eridan asks, irritated.

The guy rolls his eyes behind his stupid glasses. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He’s got a lisp just as dumb as his face.

Eridan can feel his blood begin to boil. _Nobody, especially_ not this geek, should get away with mocking Eridan Ampora. But before he can retort to the smug bastard, the teacher, Miss White, sweeps in in all her regal glory. Eridan shuts up and sits down, fuming.

The bastard’s name is Sollux Captor, which Eridan finds out while the teacher is taking attendance. He’s never bothered to learn it before, because he hasn’t had any need for Sollux aside from furtively copying his answers on reading checks and quizzes. He hasn’t heard the name around the school, either, so he must not be important. Subsequently, Eridan pushes him and his blank expression and stupid lisp to the back of his brain.

He can feel Sollux’s gaze slip onto him a few times over the course of the class, and sometimes he glances back, his eyes full of venom. But Sollux is always looking back up at the board or the teacher or the clock. Eridan doesn’t know why, but there’s something about that guy that sets his teeth on edge.

He’s even more glad than usual when the bell rings and sets him free from the agony of Miss White’s droning and Sollux’s weird stares. There’s only one period separating him from lunch—and from Fef, who he hasn’t seen all day—and it’s gym, which is both easy and relatively enjoyable. At least he’ll be moving rather than sitting around in another goddamn classroom.

It’s warm outside. Eridan’s not the kind of person who spends his life outdoors, drinking sunlight as if it’s water, but he likes it well enough. God knows Fef has dragged him along to enough cheerleading practices and hikes and whatnot. He’d joined the track team for a brief time the year before in an effort to make his schedule line up better with Fef’s busy one, but the only athletic activity he’s ever really _loved_ is swimming. At least that’s something that he and Fef share.

Dave’s in his gym class, so they chat it up a little; Eridan finds out that Rose is still just as much of a bitch at home as she is at school, and that she’s planning on running for student body president next year just like he is, which Eridan already knew. He also gets to hear Dave bitch about how boring student council meetings are and how he’s going to skip today’s to hang out with Jade and Karkat and Gamzee and Terezi and catch up with them after they did all their “lame ass running the school shit,” as he put it. To be honest, Eridan has no idea how Dave even ended up on the student council, because he sure as hell doesn’t want to be there.

Dave lapses into introspective silence after a while, like he does sometimes after he’s talked himself out, and Eridan runs ahead through the bright autumn sunshine and tries to forget all the reasons he feels like he’s hollow inside for just a little while.

*

When Eridan gets into the cafeteria, his hair hastily restyled and his favorite scarf safely wrapped around his neck, it’s already mostly full. He makes a beeline for the far right corner, sandwiched between two floor-to-ceiling windows and covered in buttery sunlight. It’s probably the best table in the caf—far away from the kitchen and its’ sickening, overwhelming smell, and tucked away in a corner where they’ll have some measure of privacy—but maybe he’s just biased.

Feferi, Kanaya and Vriska are already there, their dark heads bent in conversation. Feferi glows in a ray of shattered sunlight like an angel. Eridan smiles tenderly.

They look up when he sits down, flinging his books onto the table in a haphazard pile. Feferi grins at him. “ _Hey_ , Eridan!” she beams, elongating her words. “How was gym?”

“Okay,” Eridan replies. He waves at Kanaya and sneers at Vriska before reaching for his bagel—whole wheat, low calorie, protein enriched. “Dave’s skipping student council again.”

“Biiiiiiiig surprise there,” Vriska drawls.

Feferi giggles. “It’s okay, I know he never liked it much.” She cracks open a plastic container filled with some kind of dense, leafy green organic shit. She’s a religiously healthy eater in public, but Eridan’s seen her scarf burgers in thirty seconds flat when they’re alone.

Vriska rolls her eyes. “You crazy politicians have fun running this dictatorship. I’ll meet you when it’s over.”

“You’re going to the diner, too?” Rose asks, appearing over Kanaya’s shoulder. She sets her lunch tray down on the table. Her matte black lips are pressed into a thin, grim line.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Lalonde,” smirks Vriska.

Rose sighs and sits down, resting her head on Kanaya’s shoulder. “I’m tired.”

“Aren’t we all,” Kanaya murmurs, and brushes the hair back from Rose’s eye. Eridan watches them suspiciously. They’ve always been close, closer than most friends would be with each other, but Kanaya still refers to Vriska as her best friend on multiple occasions. And both of them were definitely the flirty type, Rose especially. Hell, she’d flirt with her own brother at times.

Rose yawns and eyes Feferi, who is studiously staring down at a textbook full of black numbers and shoveling salad into her mouth. “Do you have a test today?” asks Rose.

Feferi looks up, doe-eyed and cheeks full of salad. “No,” she mumbles. “I’m studying for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Eridan asks.

She swallows and nods. “I’m going to start getting tutored in precalc. You know how bad I am at it, Eridan! Mr. Vagabond talked to me about it last week, and he set me up with a tutor!”

Eridan frowns. “You could’a just asked me, Fef. I would’a tutored you. I’m good at precalc.”

“I know,” Fef answers. “But I want to meet _new people!_ I think it would be _fun_ to get to hang out with someone new. Plus, Mr. Vagabond said it would be a _great_ fit!”

Eridan bites his lip. There’s a strange sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Who’s going to tutor you?” he questions.

Feferi smiles brightly. “A guy in our grade. He’s really nice. His name is Sollux Captor.”

“ _Sollux Captor?_ ” Eridan spits incredulously before he can stop himself.

“Yeah, Sollux. Why, do you know him?” asks Feferi. She looks blissfully ignorant.

Vriska snorts. “Sollux Captor? Creepy goth-girl Megido’s boyfriend?”

Eridan wants to butt in and ask how the hell that geek has a girlfriend, but Feferi cuts in with “Actually, I talked to Aradia today and she said she and Sollux aren’t actually dating. They’re just really good friends. Like Eridan and me!”

He nods weakly, fighting the urge to find the bastard and punch his lights out until he promises to keep his ugly hands off of Feferi. Desperately, he throws a wild glance across the cafeteria.

There’s a girl staring at him from the opposite corner of the room. She’s got curly brown hair, big eyes, and a distantly familiar face. Eridan can’t tell from this far away, but she looks almost pretty in an unconventional way.

And, he sees, Sollux Captor is sitting next to her.

He looks away quickly, his mind turning the girl’s face over. So that must be “creepy goth-girl Megido,” unless Sollux has _another_ girlfriend, which is pretty much impossible. She doesn’t really look that creepy from a distance. Then again, Vriska hates everyone, and her nicknames are never particularly accurate.

 _Megido._ God, what’s her first name?

“I think Eridan’s losing it,” Vriska teases, her horrible, nasally voice bringing Eridan back to the cafeteria table. “Again.”

“Shut up, Vris,” Eridan says. He can’t seem to interject enough venom into it.

Vriska cackles. “Yeah right, Ampora.”

Rose rolls her eyes. Eridan isn’t sure which one of them the action is aimed at. “Can you two stop arguing for one damn second?” she asks irritably. “I’m getting sick of having to hear your insidious muttering day after day.”

“Well, what makes you think—“ Vriska begins to retort hotly.

Kanaya lays a hand on her arm. “Vriska,” she says in an even tone. Vriska relaxes, the fight draining out of her shoulders.

Rose seems to calm down too, which is good; she doesn’t get angry often, so it’s strange seeing her so distraught. Eridan vaguely wonders why Vriska gets her so riled up like nobody else can.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “Let’s not argue, though. I’d really love to have a calm lunch period.”

Feferi nods eagerly. “You guys are my _friends,_ don’t fight!”

Eridan cannot see how a girl as smart and sweet as Feferi could ever call someone like Vriska her friend, but he guesses that’s part of Feferi’s charm. She can get along with just about everyone.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Feferi is already chattering away, her train of thought moving at the speed of light. Eridan can only sit and listen to the girl he loves babble on about nothing at all.

*

Out of all of his friends (besides Feferi, of course), Eridan actually enjoys hanging out with Kanaya the most. At least she’ll laugh at his jokes and occasionally crack a few of her own, and she’s not as sharp-tongued or quick to insult as Rose or Vriska, both of whom Eridan love in a strange hate-filled way and both of whom are filled with utter horseshit. She’s smart like them, though—and pretty hot to boot, although obviously nothing is going to come of that because of her sexual orientation. Eridan usually tries to ignore that part.

She’s also in seventh-period History with him, and consequently, she’s the only one besides Feferi to know that Eridan secretly fucking loves history.  He can get seriously interested in what happened in the past, especially when it has to do with government or war or political intrigue. He doesn’t admit it, of course, because what kind of nerd would openly say they really love history? But Kanaya knows. Kanaya’s seen him geek out over Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great, and Kanaya’s never told anyone, which makes her pretty damn cool in Eridan’s book.

He holds the door for Kanaya as they walk in. She laughs and says “I’m absolutely flattered, Eridan, but I’m afraid nothing will come of this rather brazen flirtation while you remain of the male persuasion.”

Eridan stumbles as he bursts into laughter. There’s a sharp burst of pain in his leg--he must have banged a desk or something—but it recedes rapidly. “Does that mean you think I’d make a hot girl, Kan?”

“I never said that,” Kanaya replies with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Their seats are in the back where the teacher won’t bother them. Eridan may secretly adore history, but he holds no love for Diamonds. The nickname is so old that he has no idea how it even got started; but he hasn’t been Mr. Droogs for a long time, just bitchy, grumpy Diamonds. Eridan rolls his eyes when he walks in.

He yells something about homework, but Eridan tunes him out, leaning backwards and pillowing his arms behind his head. Kanaya rolls her eyes at him and smirks. “He’s going to call you out, you know,” she says.

“I know,” Eridan replies, just as Diamonds roars “Eridan, will you shut your mouth for one minute and pay attention?”

He glances up at the teacher, a disdainful grin on his face. “Yes, Diamonds?” he asks.

“That’s Mr. Droogs to you, Ampora. I take it you were too good to do your homework again?”

 _Fuck._ His homework. Eridan had tried, he really had; but the questions were lying on his bed at home, half-finished and abandoned after Feferi had started texting him the night before.

He throws out the first answer that he can think of: “Sorry, Mr. Droogs. My dog ate it.”

In retrospect, that was a really stupid thing to say, but everyone starts laughing and Eridan relaxes. At least he didn’t fuck up too badly.

“Shut up, Ampora,” Diamonds shouts, and Eridan glances away.

Goth-girl Megido—god, he really needs to find out her first name—is watching him like everyone else, but she isn’t laughing. Her full lips are pressed close together.

After a minute, she looks back down at her desk and busies herself writing, but for some reason Eridan can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the back of her head.

*

As soon as the last bell rings, Eridan is out the door and pushing his way towards Feferi’s locker. He meets her there whether she has cheerleading or swim team or one of her other thousand extracurriculars, but today they’re at least headed towards the same destination.

Naturally, they both got elected onto student council in freshman year, and that’s how they met Rose and Kanaya, who introduced them to Vriska and Dave. They’ve got other friends, of course, but the student council tends to stick together. Eridan’s glad for it. He and Vriska and Rose might have their fights, but they were at least people he didn’t mind hanging out with.

Feferi meets him there a few minutes after the bell, her arms full of books that Eridan immediately takes for her. She smiles at him in thanks.

“Big meeting today!” she comments as she opens her locker.

“Isn’t it all homecomin’ plannin’?” asks Eridan.

Fef nods, her head buried somewhere in her locker. “I’m so _excited!_ Aren’t you, Eridan? Do you know who you’re going to go with?”

“Uh, no idea,” Eridan stutters. He’s lying, of course—if everything goes right, he’ll be there with Fef on his arm.

“Same!” exclaims Feferi. “I’ll have to wait and see who asks me, I guess, though I’ve got to admit, there’s _someone_ in particular I’m hoping might ask me…”

“Who?”

Feferi pulls her head out of her locker, slams it closed, and winks. “It’s a _secret!_ ” she giggles.

There’s a burst of hope in his chest, like he drank a can of beer too fast and now the bubbles are fizzing in his throat. Fef doesn’t keep things secret from him unless she has a good reason. And maybe it’s an illogical assumption—maybe it’s a huge fucking stretch—but it makes sense to him, and he can’t help it. He bites down a huge grin. Fef must have figured it out. She _knows,_ she knows that he’s into her and that he wants to ask her so badly, and of course she’ll accept! Who else could she be talking about but him?

“C’mon,” he says to Fef, and takes her hand. “We don’t want to be late.”

Her hand is small and warm in his, and though she seems surprised, she doesn’t complain as he leads her towards the student council room.

*

The meeting’s not the most interesting one Eridan’s ever been to. It’s mostly comprised of Fef chattering excitedly with the rest of the girls about homecoming songs and decorations and dresses and dates while Rose and Eridan struggle desperately to get them back on topic. Nothing important gets done, but at least they’ve got pages of notes and ideas on how to make this homecoming dance “the best one _ever!_ ” (in Fef’s words—not Eridan’s.)

She’s still jabbering away when they leave the classroom. It sounds like she’s discussing corsages with Kanaya, but Eridan isn’t sure and he’s not sure if he really cares. Rose seemingly doesn’t, either, because she rolls her eyes every few seconds.

Vriska is waiting outside the school by Eridan’s car, a cigarette dangling between her lips.

“Took you long enough,” she calls. “I’m riding with Strider. Kanaya?”

Kanaya turns to Rose. “You’re not opposed to sharing a vehicle with your brother, are you?”

And suddenly, Eridan and Feferi are alone together like they have been a thousand times before. For some reason, it feels completely different this time. He holds the passenger-side door open for her with a mock bow, which makes her laugh. Eridan’s heart swells.

She’s still babbling about homecoming—Jesus, Eridan thinks, this girl can talk—even when music starts blaring from his top-of-the-line sound system when he turns on the car. He realizes with belated embarrassment that he’s left one of his grittier post-punk CDs in the system. It’s kind of a guilty pleasure--not that he feels guilty for liking Joy Division; in all honesty, he thinks their world-weary lyrics are genius. But it doesn’t exactly go with his public image.

Fef makes a face. “This again?”

“Yeah,” Eridan mumbles, and dives for the console with one hand. The wailing guitars cut off suddenly.

“I don’t know how you can listen to that kind of stuff,” Feferi says disdainfully as she twiddles with the radio tuning knob. After a moment, a sugary pop song cuts through the static, and she starts humming along.

Eridan wants to tell her about how it’s not just the music that speaks to him, but how the lyrics are amazingly introspective and that’s the part that he really likes, but he doesn’t want to make her annoyed. He knows she won’t listen, anyway; as far as music goes, Feferi is shockingly close-minded.

He pulls out onto the town’s small Main Street and follows Dave’s bright red, shitty convertible to the Cherub Diner, where they hang out sometimes after student council. It’s small, retro and pretty unhealthy, but Eridan’s got to admit it has charm. His brother’s completely obsessed with it because it’s styled after a typical 50s dive, and Cronus is convinced he’s a lost soul born in the wrong generation. And he wonders why he can’t get a girlfriend.

The Cherub’s cool, though. It’s got fantastically greasy fries, and Fef loves it to death. Her face lights up when he cuts the engine in the spot next to Dave’s. She leads their small group in like a war general leading her troops into a battle against healthy eating and modern music.

Eridan steps ahead to hold the door for her, and she giggles demurely and places her hand on his arm. “Always the gentleman, Mr. Ampora,” she says with an over-exaggerated doe-eyed smile.

“Hey, gotta act the part,” returns Eridan with what he knows is a charming grin.

When he looks up again, he’s met with a head of curly brown hair that shouldn’t be familiar, but it is, because he spent his entire seventh-period History block staring at it this afternoon. Goth-girl Megido is dressed in the tackiest outfit ever: bubblegum-pink blouse, black flared skirt with knee-high socks and an absolutely atrocious pair of hot pink roller skates. When she turns around, he can see that she looks utterly miserable.

Crap, wait. She noticed him.

He looks away hurriedly, because Eridan was _not_ just staring at goth-girl Megido— _what’s her goddamned name?_ —and even if he was, he isn’t going to get caught doing it.

“Aradia! HEY!” Feferi calls a moment later. Eridan smirks. Typical—of course Fef knows everyone in here.

The voice that responds “Hey, Feferi,” is quiet and melodic and utterly disinterested.

Eridan looks back up. To his complete shock, the girl Feferi just addressed is goth-girl Megido. The one with the disastrous uniform and all the hair.

“Who’s your friend, Fef?” he asks curiously.

The other girl mutters something indiscernible, but Feferi plows over her words. “This is Aradia Megido. I’m sure you’ve seen her around, right, Eridan?”

 _Aradia._ That’s a pretty name. It fits her too, in a strange way.

“Heeeeeeeey, Megido,” Vriska drawls with a sharp smile. “What are you doing here?”

Aradia wears a visible grimace on her face. Her wide, almond-shaped eyes are filled with anger and repulsion. “I work here,” she snaps at Vriska, fire on her tongue. “Let me find you a table.”

She moves about as angrily as a person on roller skates can, but still, her disdain is made obvious by her posture. Feferi doesn’t seem to notice it, but she’s always been oblivious to the feelings of others. Eridan sees it plainly, though. Aradia hates all of them for some unknown reason. He curls his lip into a sneer. Whatever her problem is, he’s not going to deal with it.

*

He drives Feferi home when twilight is falling in streaky dark patches across the sky. Kanaya had gone with Rose, and Vriska had gone with Kanaya, and so it was just him and Fef—the way he wanted it.

Feferi is tranquil and quiet for the first time all day, singing along to the song on the radio under her breath with her eyes closed, so Eridan lets himself stare at his best friend. She’s perfect. His eyes roll over her black sheet of hair, down her olive-skinned forehead and eyelids tinted with fuchsia makeup, over her full lips and her tan arms and long legs and god, he loves her.

“You’re staring,” Feferi murmurs.

Eridan blinks and tears his gaze back to the road. “I’m not,” he says hurriedly.

Fef laughs lightly, the sound musical and relaxed. “It’s not like I care,” she answers.

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re just—Fef, you’re really pretty.”

She finally opens her eyes. Her irises are a strange, beautiful shade of deep purple that he’s memorized perfectly. “Thanks,” she says, sounding bemused.

Eridan takes a deep breath. He can feel the acute tenseness in his shoulders, the tendons popping out white at his knuckles where he clutches the wheel too tightly. Feferi is watching him, looking confused. He must look fucking terrified.

“Is something the matter, Eridan?” she asks softly.

He cannot mess this up.

“Fef, I—“ he starts, and then shakes his head. “You still need a date for homecomin’, right?”

“Yes,” she answers, her eyebrows furrowed.

That reminds him of what she’d said before. She was waiting on one special guy to ask her—and she’s looked at him with that strange, hopeful look in her eyes. She wants him to ask her just as much as he does.

There’s confidence and nervousness mixing in his veins, and it’s a heady combination, but at least the signature Ampora confidence is winning.

“Fef, will you go to homecomin’ with me?” he finally asks in a rush.

He doesn’t know exactly what he expected. Feferi screaming ‘yes’ at the top of her lungs? Feferi bursting into tears and confessing her undying secret love for him? Feferi jumping over the console and kissing him in the middle of this empty road? He would have been fine with any of them. What happened next, though—he definitely wasn’t fine with that.

Feferi frowns. “Homecoming? That’s sweet, Eridan, but I kind of want to go with a date, not just a friend—“

“I don’t want us to go as friends,” he cuts in hurriedly. “I—no. Be my date to homecomin’.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Please,” Eridan says, and fuck, he’s begging. He’s _begging_ this girl to go out with him.

“Eridan—“ Feferi begins.

“I’m in love with you, Fef.”

Everything stops. The car, the music, Feferi, himself.

She sighs, and suddenly, Eridan doesn’t want to hear what she’s going to say next.

“Eridan,” she repeats, but this time, it’s plaintive and pleading. “Eridan…I’m sorry.”

No. No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go at all.

Some small part of his brain just registered that he’d pulled into Feferi’s street, but the vast majority is preoccupied with the train wreck his life is becoming before his eyes.

“Why?” he asks hoarsely.

Feferi slumps down in her seat. “I don’t think of you that way,” she replies. “I love you as a friend, Eridan. But I think we’re both better off that way. I’m sorry.”

They’re in her driveway, and she’s opening the door and blasting him with cool evening air and then her lips brush across his cheek once and then she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahah i forgot the title of my own story. had to change it.


	3. if they knew how misery loved me

_Dance dance, we're falling apart to half time_  
 _Dance dance, and these are the lives you'd love to lead_  
 _Dance, this is the way they'd love if they knew how misery loved me_

_\--Dance Dance_

Calliope always insists that Aradia take every other Friday night off. “You’re seventeen,” she says when Aradia tries to argue. “Don’t spend the best years of your life sitting around this musty old diner, love. You’re earning plenty. I can hold the fort down on my own for a while.”

Aradia always argues, and Calliope always wins. Secretly, she loves those sunny Friday afternoons when she’s free and light as a feather. Calliope’s right—she needs to spend the time with her friends; and there’s nothing she would rather do than waste a lazy Friday night with them.

It’s a tradition that every other Friday after school, the six of them—Aradia, Sollux, Tavros, John, Nepeta, and Equius—cram themselves into Sollux’s crappy pile of junk and speed away to forget their school for one afternoon. Sometimes they see a movie, or go paintballing, or laser tagging, or just hang around the mall for a while like a bunch of teenage dirtbags. They usually end up at the Chinese joint at the end of Main Street or the pizza place next to the mall or somewhere else that won’t mind six loud teens at ten at night.

Aradia lives for those nights. They’re bright spots in her dull, lonely, everyday routine of school-work-home. This Friday seems to drag by at an agonizingly slow pace—at least until lunch, which flies away amidst a heated discussion about some sort of video game—but finally, she’s made it through history and art and it’s two-thirty-five and the bell cuts through the calming classical music that fills the school’s art studio. She throws off her smock, pulls the elastic out that keeps her hair tied messily atop her head, and dashes for the door.

Sollux, Tavros, Nepeta and Equius are leaning against the car and talking animatedly when she gets there, her schoolbag banging against her hip as she jogs towards them and grins. Nepeta waves at her excitedly, her tiny form bouncing on the balls of her feet, and Sollux languidly detaches himself from the car to embrace her.

“Shotgun!” John yells behind her, and she laughs as he dashes for the passenger-side door at the same time Tavros wheels over to it as quickly as he can. Tavros will get it, of course; handicapped benefit. But that never stops John from trying.

Aradia piles into the back, sandwiched between John and Equius with Nepeta settled on her lap. She’s completely crushed, and there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

Sollux has to try the engine five times before it catches and roars to life, the A/C blasting Aradia full in the face with a burst of lukewarm air. The radio comes to life, too, with a crackle of static leading into a familiar rock song. They roll down their windows and let the fall breeze blow through the small space.

This is Aradia’s favorite part: crushed on all sides by people she loves, the wind whipping through her hair as Sollux turns out of the parking lot, everyone singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs. This is what high school is supposed to be about. Not classes or stupid parties or hopeless crushes. Right here, in Sollux’s crappy car with her hair blowing back in her mouth and her lap beginning to ache from Nepeta’s scant weight and the music just too loud, is where she feels alive.

“Where are we going?” John shouts to Sollux over the radio.

Sollux shrugs.  “Who cares? I’ll drive until you tell me to stop.”

So they drive for a while, singing along to Green Day on the radio and watching the world flash by as Sollux drives them away from Cork Tree. They’ll almost definitely end up at the mall a couple towns over—just about the only interesting place for teenagers in their area to hang out—and from there, they’ll waste their night the way people their ages are supposed to.

Sure enough, Sollux pulls into the already-crowded parking lot half an hour later, and everyone piles out, Aradia especially glad to have the chance to stretch her legs. Nepeta is tiny, but still, the backseat is ridiculously cramped.

“We should go see a movie!” Nepeta says excitedly, and internally, Aradia groans. It’s always a disaster trying to pick which movie to watch with her group of friends. Nepeta always wants to see the rom-coms, Sollux votes for the boring, intellectual movies, Tavros picks something completely fantastical and cheesy, Equius’ choices are just plain weird and they all learned long ago _never_ to take a movie suggestion from John Egbert. Aradia, for her part, likes action and adventure movies, but Nepeta just complains and Sollux gets bored and starts bitching about the special effects. There’s never an in-between.

John beams, though. “Great! There’s a new Nic Cage one that came out yesterday!”

“ _No!”_ Sollux, Tavros and Aradia say in tandem.

His bucktoothed grin falls. “Okay,” he mumbles.

Equius clears his throat. “There is a rather fascinating recent piece. I believe it’s a nature documentary about the mating—“

“Don’t want to hear it, Eq,” Sollux replies. “It’s gotta be _Hacker,_ it looks fantastic.”

And it continues in this circular and familiar pattern for fifteen minutes while they take two escalators to get to the theater and dredge up enough money for tickets, and once they finally decide on Sollux’s superspy hacker thing they find out the next two shows are sold out and they’ll have to wait until eight p.m., anyway, at which point John makes one more valiant argument for Nic Cage and the rest of them unanimously decide on the arcade.

Personally, the arcade is Aradia’s favorite part of the mall. She’s never been very into shopping and she can get a movie anywhere, but the arcade is just flat-out cool. It’s kind of cheesy, with its’ dim lighting and neon carpet and dumb ’50s music, but the video games are classics. They’ve got an entire bank of original Pac-Man machines and an antique but still-functioning jukebox loaded with just about the worst music she could ask for. In other words, she loves the place to death.

John makes a beeline for the old Space Invader machine that he loves so well, while Equius and Nepeta head off to face off in some kind of first-person shooter deal. Tavros, for his part, always spends at least an hour with Mario, which he gets no end of teasing from Sollux about. “Sometimes I think you’d rather have Peach than an actual, real-life girlfriend,” he teases, to which Tavros always blushes and stutters out some kind of weak retribution.

Aradia looks about carefully for a long moment before withdrawing a quarter from the pocket of her jacket and pushing it into the slot in the pinball machine.

“Called it,” Sollux laughs behind her.

Aradia spins around, her hand still curled around the plunger. “What?”

“Knew you were gonna go for pinball.” Sollux drapes himself casually against the top of the machine, and a small part of Aradia wishes he would move because he is very distracting and will put her off her game, but the much larger part is swooning like a lovestruck Disney princess.

“You always go for pinball,” he says. Aradia takes a deep breath and pulls the plunger back.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” she says as she lets the first ball go.

She can see Sollux smirking out of the corner of her eye as she expertly maneuvers the flippers, sending the ball pinging between light-up bumpers and hidden miniature alleys. Sollux is right—she knew she was going to pick the pinball machine, because she’s had so much practice with it. Nothing beats the classic arcade game. And she hasn’t beaten her old top score for almost two months now, which is completely unacceptable for a pinball champion such as her.

The first ball ends up in the gutter when she gets distracted by Nepeta cheering a  few feet away—she’d probably beaten Equius in Mortal Kombat or something—and the second one when Sollux starts pulling stupid faces at her and she can’t help but crack up. Her third and fourth ones meet their end because of him, too, and by that point she knows when a game is lost, so she forfeits her last one in favor of starting over for another chance at a new high score.

Sollux cuts in after her third game, requesting “let me try.” He’s hilariously bad. His first three balls are sunk within five minutes.

Everyone’s wandered off by now, so no one’s here to see him fail tragically, but all Aradia can think about is how alone they are and how it makes her stomach fizz like she’d drunk too much Diet Coke. She watches Sollux intently, her elbows folded on top of the machine next to him, and makes little notes in her head about things she already knew: the exact way the space between his eyebrows wrinkles when he squints, the slight turn up at the corners of his honey-almond eyes, the cute scrunch in the bridge of his nose as he concentrates. His face is nearly more familiar to her than her own, but every time she looks at him, it’s like she’s seeing something new and wonderful that makes her head get light.

“Argh!” exclaims Sollux loudly, throwing his hands up as the machine beeps at him.

Aradia can’t help but laugh. “Was that your last one?”

“Second-to-last,” he corrects. He stares at her imploringly, the crinkles between his eyebrows gone now. “C’mon, aa,” he pleads. “You have to help me.”

“Help you?” asks Aradia, pushing off the machine she was leaning on.

Sollux nods. “Show me the ways of the master. Or better yet—“ Suddenly, he pulls her into a rather awkward embrace, somehow managing to wrap her arms around his torso so that her hands rest on top of his on the flippers.

“Teach me,” he says.

Aradia can barely keep herself from trembling. She’s hugged Sollux before, of course; but she’s _so close_ now, her mouth smashed against the back of his shoulder and her body pressed up along his back in all the right places. He has to feel it, too—how electrically charged this moment is; how this is the closest they’ve ever been and she can’t even breathe because if she moves, it will fall apart.

“Sollux,” she says weakly.

Sollux laughs, a deep sound that reverberates through his body so she feels it shaking against her own. “Just show me what to do,” he tells her. She feels his arms relax.

She guides his hand to the plunger with an unsteady touch, going up on her tiptoes so she can see over Sollux’s shoulder. Her cheek brushes against his by accident. The light stubble there pricks against her skin.

The ball flies out of the alley, and she moves Sollux’s hands to the flippers. It’s hard to concentrate, nearly impossible to play the game right, but she wants to draw the moment out for as long as she can.

He smells like apple shampoo and clothes detergent.

Aradia’s hand trembles, and she nearly lets the ball fall into the gutter before she can press Sollux’s hand down. He lets out a mock sigh of relief.

It’s strange to feel Sollux pressed against her like this. She’s spent enough time watching the exact contours of his back, but feeling his bony shoulder blades against her own shoulders and how the dip in his back curves away from her stomach and meets her body again a few inches down is entirely new. He’s warm, too, and feels surprisingly strong in a wiry way.

“I love you,” Aradia mouths against his t-shirt, letting her eyes slide shut for a moment.

The machine starts beeping and lighting up. On the score board, the sign reads “GAME OVER. INSERT QUARTER BELOW.”

Sollux turns around so that he’s resting on the machine, Aradia’s arms still caging him in. “Not at the top of your game, huh?” he asks.

Aradia just shakes her head slowly.

He laughs and rubs her shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay, that’s still a hell of a lot better than I could have done on my own. Come on, let’s go find everyone else.”

*

Later in the night, they end up in the pizza place like Aradia knew they would. It’s a red-and-white-tiled hole in the wall, and the food isn’t even that good. But they’ve got memories here, and it’s a part of them.

They claim their circular booth in the far corner, and the usual hassle over food ensues: Tavros needs a vegetarian option, Nepeta wants something loaded with meat, Equius tries to go for some incredibly dubious variety, and John begs everyone to at least give Hawaiian a chance. Even Aradia has to disagree with that one. “I just don’t see why anyone would want to put pineapple on top of a perfectly good pizza,” she tells him while Tavros nods eagerly.

John sighs. “Fine. I guess it’s cheese again…”

Their drinks and pizza, shimmering with grease, arrive at their table moments later via a bored-looking waitress who snaps her bubblegum obnoxiously every few moments. They all dive for the biggest slice immediately, and Aradia giggles as she sits back and watches the bloodbath.

It’s all so familiar in a safe, comforting, wonderful way. This is the part of high school she’ll remember, she thinks to herself as she idly watches John and Tavros bicker. The loud pop music, the taste of Diet Coke on her tongue, the smell of greasy cheese, her friends’ voices, Sollux’s arm pressed against her own as they squeeze into a too-small booth. It reassures her. Nothing can go wrong when she’s here with them. Her mother and Damara are miles away, her schoolteachers belong to a different world than this Friday night adventure, and Feferi and Vriska and all her tormentors are somewhere where they won’t hurt her. And even if they tried, she’s got plenty of backup.

Sollux nudges her with his elbow and deposits a cheese-laden slice of pizza onto her plate. “Come on, don’t even try to tell me you aren’t hungry,” he teases. “That was an intense game of pinball, you must have worked up an appetite.”

Aradia nods eagerly and reaches for the food. The first bite is deliciously greasy, with too much cheese and not enough sauce and so hot it burns the roof of her mouth. Like everything else here, it’s like home.

“So, Sollux,” John says as he chews a mouthful of pizza, “how’s your tutoring with Feferi going?”

Aradia’s food turns to cardboard in her mouth.

Sollux grins widely—more widely than normal, more widely than the question called for. “Great,” he says excitedly. “ff is—well, she’s great. It’s so much fun to tutor her. At first, I thought it was going to be boring and she’d be, y’know, just the dumb, vapid chick we all make her out to be, but she’s really not. She’s actually pretty smart, and we have great conversations—not just about precalc, but…”

Aradia tries to tune him out as best she can. Her stomach is churning, and she sets down her pizza, suddenly not hungry anymore. There’s this look in Sollux’s eyes as he speaks. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It looks like the one Equius used to have when he spoke to her, or Nepeta gets when she talks about Karkat, or John has when he looks at Vriska. It’s probably the way she looks when she’s with Sollux.

She bites down on her bottom lip hard, until she can taste blood, and tries to fill her head with music loud enough to drown out everyone else. Tavros, Nepeta and even Equius have joined in now, too, questioning Sollux about how different she was from them and how cool it was that she was friends with him now. Sollux, for his part, answers all their questions openly with that stupid goddamn sparkle in his eye.

Aradia’s stomach lurches sickeningly, and she feels physically nauseous. She pushes Equius aside with a rushed apology and dashes for the bathroom as quickly as she can.

She’s not sick, but she spends long enough hunched over the toilet bowl that Nepeta has to come in and knock on her stall, asking in a sweet, anxious voice if she was okay. Aradia waves her away with a weak ‘I’m fine.’

She really isn’t, though. There’s a coiled ball of something heavy and sour in the pit of her stomach, even after she emerges from her dirty stall and splashes water across her face. She shouldn’t be acting like this. Sollux had been interested in other girls before; there had been that one thing with the younger Lalonde sister, and his on-and-off relationship with Terezi Pyrope for nearly all of freshman year, and it had never been this bad.

It’s because she let herself get her hopes up, she realizes as she dries her face with a rough brown paper towel. Over the recent months, Sollux had seemed more open towards her, more affectionate, and because of that, she’d let herself hope about what she’d never allowed herself to hope about before.

And it wasn’t even as if the hope was completely unfounded. When she gets back to the table, Sollux slides a protective arm around her and brushes the loose hair from her face, his eyes narrowed in concern. It almost makes the tightness in her stomach loosen a bit, and she musters a smile from somewhere. He grins back at her and says “that’s my girl.”

Aradia wants to kiss him so, so badly. But instead she leans her head on his shoulder and listens to John and Tavros and Equius and Nepeta babble and counts Sollux’s breaths.

*

Sollux is stretched across the foot of her bed, his long legs hanging off the side and his glasses askew. He smiles up at her lopsidedly. Aradia laughs.

“You look dumb,” she proclaims.

Sollux winks. “You look dumber upside down,” he retorts.

Aradia slaps his arm playfully and props her head up on one hand. “You always look dumb.”

“At least I’m the smarter one.”

She lets out an ungainly snort of a laugh that she wouldn’t dare attempt around anyone but Sollux. “Says who?”

“I’m the one tutoring ff in precalc,” he smirks.

Aradia nearly groans out loud. God, it always has to come back to her, doesn’t it?

Sollux sits up, fixing his glasses and rearranging his playful expression into a serious one. “I have to tell you something, aa,” he says.

She blinks bemusedly. “About what?”

“Something I didn’t want to say in front of the others yet,” he tells her. “I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

Aradia nods. “You know you can talk about anything with me, Sollux,” she prompts.

He exhales heavily. “Okay. Thanks, aa.”

“No problem.”

He stretches languidly, the tendons in his arms flexing and relaxing. “This thing, with tutoring ff in precalc. It’s going…differently than I expected.”

“Differently?” asks Aradia. She can’t help it. The thing in her stomach that moments ago had been coiled in dread was now rising, hope pounding in her ears. Maybe he doesn’t like her after all. Maybe he can’t _stand_ her—

Sollux actually, literally blushes. “Yeah. I didn’t expect it to turn out this way, but somehow it did. I don’t know where it came from.”

“Turn out what way?”

He looks her in the eye, his gaze steady and honest. “I’ve got a date with Feferi Peixes tomorrow night.”

Time stops.

Her heart is beating its’ way into her throat, or maybe it’s just bile, thick and hot and sour as her head spins rapidly.

“And it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time, aa,” he continues. “Maybe forever. I can’t even believe she’d want to go on a date with me.”

“I…” Aradia swallows weakly. “You’re going out with her?”

He nods. “She was the one who asked. I think it’s going to be different this time. It feels like it could work, you know?”

 _No, I don’t know,_ she wants to say. _I’m never_ going _to know._

“Mhm,” she mutters.

“She’s…different, y’know?” Sollux sighs contentedly. “And I’m so glad you’re okay with it, aa. I really think you’ll love ff. You two will get along great.”

Aradia cannot take this anymore.

“I don’t feel good,” she tells him faintly.

He frowns. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

She feigns a yawn. “Sleep will help. I’m really tired, Sollux. Maybe I should get some rest.”

“Yeah, okay.” He smoothes his hand over her forehead. His fingers are cold.

“Goodnight, Sollux.”

He turns to go, his handle on the doorknob. “Goodnight, aa.”

After a long pause, he softly adds “love you.”

“Love you, too,” Aradia replies with a sad smile.

And then she falls to pieces.

The door clicks closed and something tears inside her. She smashes her face into her pillow and screams and screams until her throat is raw and then she sobs, tears running into the fabric until it’s soaked and all she can taste is saltwater on her lips. There’s a wrenching ache in her chest as if she had been seized and pulled apart, ripped open so everyone could see her bloody, broken heart.

Feferi Peixes, of all people. He’d chosen _Feferi Peixes_ over her. He’d never thought of her romantically; he was still achingly blind to the way she felt, so blind that she nearly hated him for it. He’d never really loved her at all.

Her lungs are beginning to hurt as she gasps for air, but she can’t stop the sobs from washing over her body in violent waves. Because he might not love her like that, but dammit, she still loves him with the shattered little pieces of her heart. And Feferi is going to hurt him. She knows it. Feferi might like him for a while, might even think she loves him, but she’ll never _love_ him. Not like Aradia does. Feferi will leave him broken, and Aradia will have to put him back together. She’ll do it willingly, because Sollux will have no one else.

Or maybe it won’t happen like that, and Feferi and Sollux will really, truly fall in love and go to college together and get married and have beautiful children with Feferi’s charisma and Sollux’s eyes. And he’ll forget about Aradia completely, leave her in the dust, and she’ll have to go on without the best friend she’s ever known. She doesn’t know which idea is worse.

She cries herself out after a while, but she doesn’t have the energy to get up. Her computer beeps at her, and for a moment, she almost jumps up to check it reflexively. But she can’t stand another second of hearing about Feferi and how she has the only thing that Aradia really wants, and the only thing that Aradia will never have.

Instead, she closes her eyes and tries to shut out all her racing thoughts until she falls into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha english portfolios are a fucking joke. that's my excuse for taking so long.


	4. am i more than you bargained for yet?

_Am I more than you bargained for yet?_   
_I’ve been dying to tell you anything you want to hear_   
_Cause that’s just who I am this week_

_\--Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down_

Sollux fucking Captor.

That’s who Fef had wanted to ask her to homecoming. Sollux fucking Captor. She’d chosen that fucking geek Sollux Captor over him. Eridan would be angry, but all he can feel is acute sadness.

It’s been five days since he laid himself bare in front of her, and five days since she’d shot him down. She’d called him two nights after sounding like she was about to burst with excitement, all because she’d asked Sollux out during their stupid tutoring session during lunch and he’d said yes. Eridan had listened to her jabber about how they were going to the Cherub Diner the next night and how she _really liked_ him and was _ecstatic_ to hang out with him and how he was _so cute,_ and he just didn’t have the heart to tell her to shut up. There was no other way for him to be with her except for as friends anymore. He would take whatever he could get.

It hurt, though. It hurt to listen to her talk about how she was falling in love with someone that wasn’t him. She hadn’t talked like that about any of the other guys she’d dated. And it was different this time—Feferi was dating someone else with the knowledge that Eridan loved her.

He was still worried about her, though. He didn’t know anything about Sollux, and he couldn’t stand to see Feferi get hurt.

What he’s doing is probably wrong. At the very least, it’s definitely creepy and most likely fringing on stalking. But Fef is never going to find out, and anyway, he isn’t doing it because he’s obsessed with her or something. No, he just wants to make sure she’ll be alright.

A small part of him still hopes that her date will be horrible, and that she’ll break it off with Sollux and realize that Eridan’s the one for her after all. But Eridan’s all but given up on that by now. The part of him that still loves her thinks it’s his duty to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.

He tries his hardest not to think about Sollux and Feferi as he drives through Main Street, though his hands are shaking on the wheel and the pounding in his head is louder than the music he’s blasting over the stereo.

He pulls into the Cherub Diner’s parking lot underneath the flashing neon sign and parks his car in the shadows at the edge of the lot. Fef should never know he was here; he doesn’t want her to recognize his car if he leaves it out in the open.

Eridan cuts the engine and moves his hand to the door handle, then stops. He sits for a minute in the dark, listening to himself breathe.

He doesn’t want to do this.

He doesn’t want to face the fact that Feferi could be happy with someone that isn’t him, but he’s her best friend. Feferi deserves this, at least, from him.

With a long-suffering sigh, Eridan wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and pulls the car door open. The autumn chill hits him like a wave, and he shivers in his thin coat. The leaves on the trees overhead are slowly bursting into flame in shades of varying orange and red and yellow. Normally, it’d be his favorite time of year; he loves the crisp fall air, and New England is always the prettiest in autumn. Right now, though, he doesn’t have much of an eye for beauty.

The diner’s really damn tacky. It’s a horrible place to take someone for a first date, if you ask him, Eridan thinks as he pulls open the big glass doors. He’s immediately bombarded with old ‘50s music—Elvis? Chuck Berry? He doesn’t want to know—and the smell of fryer grease. It’s a little too warm inside, and he peels off his coat but keeps his scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth to make him less easily recognizable.

Eridan glances around the diner, his eyes skipping from booth to booth until his eyes land on Sollux and Feferi. Feferi’s sitting with her back turned to him, her elbows resting on the table as she leans forward slightly. She’s laughing at something Sollux said.

 _At least she’s happy,_ Eridan thinks, even though every giggle overheard is like a punch to the gut.

He finds a booth near the middle of the diner where Feferi can’t see him and Sollux won’t notice him, but still gives him a good enough view of their spot. There’s a menu lying on the table, so he picks it up and pretends to read it, letting the words run together in front of his eyes while he watches Feferi’s fingers toy with her straw.

“Are you ready to order?”

Eridan looks up abruptly, jerking his gaze away from Feferi’s table. To his surprise, the waitress standing before him wearing bubblegum pink roller skates and a pained expression is Aradia Megido.

“What?” he says stupidly.

“Can I get you anything?” asks Aradia. Her voice is strangely thick, as if she’s straining to speak.

“Oh.” Eridan looks back down at the menu, but his stomach churns at every option and eating is the furthest thing from his mind right now. “Uh…coffee, I guess.”

Aradia withdraws a pen from somewhere in her mass of curly hair and scribbles a word on her notepad. “Anything else?”

“No, I’m good,” he mumbles.

Aradia looks at him for a second longer than she needs to. She seems uncomfortable, even more so than the last time he’d seen her in here, and she breaks her gaze after a moment to glance over her shoulder at something behind them.

“I’ll get that for you,” she says finally. Her roller skates wobble as she skates off toward the kitchen.

Sollux’s fingers are interlaced with Feferi’s on top of the table now. He’s leaning forward, leering at her from behind those stupid glasses of his. Eridan’s hands involuntarily curl into fists.

He strains his ears to try and hear what they’re saying, but Sollux is talking too softly and he’s not a goddamn lip reader. Whatever it is makes Feferi laugh again and then begin to chatter rapidly. Her words are lost in the hubbub of the restaurant, and Eridan’s left to imagine the worst-case scenario again.

 Someone brings them their food, and he’s so distracted by watching their table that he doesn’t even notice when Aradia skates up to his own with a mug and a pot of coffee. She’s glancing at something in that area too as she distractedly pours coffee into the cup and slides it toward him before giving him a half smile. It looks kind of good on her, he thinks absently as he watches Feferi feed Sollux a French fry. (Oh god. _Yuck._ )

“Is that really all you want?” she asks.

Eridan nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He watches her skate away, her loose brown curls bouncing. She dodges past Sollux and Feferi’s table, ducking her head as if to avoid someone’s gaze.

The smell of coffee drifts up toward him from the mug in front of him, and with a sigh, he looks down at it. His reflection is distorted in the surface of the brown liquid. He looks downtrodden and world weary, his usually perfectly-styled hair mussed and his violet eyes exhausted.

He taps the mug, and his reflection ripples, little waves shooting across the reproduction of his face. He feels miserable.

It’s normal shitty diner coffee, and it tastes like dishwater, but he’s got nothing to do but drink it. Five packets of sugar just about drown out the taste, and before he knows it, half of it is gone and he’s no better off.

He looks up when he hears roller skates. Aradia’s returned with the pot of coffee, and she smiles at him again.

“Want me to refill that for you?”

Eridan pushes it at her without a word. Invariably, his gaze drifts back towards Feferi and Sollux’s table.

“What are you staring at?”

Crap. She’d caught him, hadn’t she?

“Nothin’,” Eridan says hurriedly.

Aradia turns around, staring in the direction of Feferi and Sollux, and then purses her lips and skates off.

Aw, great. Now he’d scared her off, too, and she’d been possibly the only semi-interesting thing that didn’t make his heart ache like he was being torn apart at the seams. Eridan watches her go somewhat morosely, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself.

The coffee is getting to him, because it’s starting to smell kind of good. He traces a finger around the rim, his head propped in his hand.

“Are you going to drink that?” Aradia asks.

Eridan startles and looks up. She’d come back quicker this time; her hair is down now, and her apron is askew.

“It’s okay if you aren’t,” she says. “It kind of sucks.  Mind if I sit down?”

“What?” he stutters. “Oh. Uh, guess not.”

“Cool.” To his surprise, she drops onto the red vinyl bench next to him and slides in far enough that her thigh is pressed against his. She leans forward, her chin rested in the cradle of her palms.

“You’re watching them too, aren’t you?” she questions softly.

Eridan can feel his face begin to turn red. “I’m not watchin’ any—wait, what?”

She nods, her gaze still fixed on Sollux and Feferi. “You’re not the only one trying to look out for your best friend, you know.”

 _Creepy goth-girl Megido’s boyfriend._ That’s right, Aradia and Sollux are best friends. And it does kind of make sense—Aradia’s staring at the table with the same kind of look in her eyes that Eridan’s sure he has.

“Don’t you have tables to wait on?” he asks, a bit rudely.

She shakes her head. “No, my shift just ended. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and their table falls into silence as they sit there staring at Sollux and Feferi. Eridan’s close enough that he can hear her soft breaths. There’s a wisp of hair on her forehead that flutters when she exhales.

“God, we’re a pair of sad sacks, aren’t we?” she mutters. Her laugh is humorless.

Eridan looks down at his hands. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Can’t choose who we fall in love with,” she sighs.

He looks up. “Huh? Are you an’…” he gestures at the corner vaguely.

Aradia bites her lip and nods. “Well, he isn’t. But for me…yeah. For a hell of a long time.”

“Same,” he confesses.

This time, when Aradia laughs, it’s light and true. “Same, you’re secretly in love with Sollux Captor too?” she teases.

Eridan blushes. “No! No fuckin’ way. Same, I’m secretly –well, not so secretly--in love with my best friend.”

Her laugh fades away, and she turns to look at him. Her brown eyes are brimming with sympathy. “You told her?” she questions quietly.

He nods. “Yep. And she fuckin’ rejected me. For that _asshole,_ of all people. No offense,” he adds hastily when Aradia opens her mouth, no doubt to retort in Sollux’s defense.

Instead, she seems to fold in on herself, her shoulders hunching as if she’s trying to block out the world. “That’s how I felt, too,” she says. “Feferi’s not exactly the kind of girl I thought he’d be into, you know? And she’s nothing like me, either.”

“Exactly.” Eridan gesticulates in Sollux’s direction. “How am I supposed to compete with _that?_ Especially when I don’t even know what she fuckin’ sees in him. It’s like shootin’ at a target blindfolded.”

“Or maybe she’s seen you as a friend for so long that she’ll never be able to change her mind,” suggests Aradia.

Eridan laughs bitterly. “Me, friendzoned by my own goddamn best friend. Who woulda thought.”

A wave of intense loss sweeps over him, so strong that he has to put his head down on the table so Aradia can’t see the tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. “I thought she actually mighta liked me, y’know?” he says thickly.

After a moment, he feels a hand on his back, and Aradia begins rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “I know,” she murmurs. “I know it hurts.”

And it actually does help to know that there’s somebody else who knows how he’s feeling, who’s willing to talk to him about it and let him vent. Who would’ve guessed he would even talk to Aradia Megido, much less sit here and confess his deepest secrets to her while she gives him a fucking backrub? He, certainly, never would have guessed it.

She begins speaking to him in a soft, soothing voice. “She’s not the only girl out there, Eridan,” she says. “You’ll be okay. You’ll get over her eventually. We both will.”

Eridan thinks she might be trying to comfort herself just as much as him, but he appreciates it all the same. He picks his head up off the table, no longer caring how red his eyes are. She wouldn’t care; she feels exactly the same way.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks.

Aradia quickly removes her hand from his back, as if she was worried she’d done something wrong. “Doing what?” she asks warily.

“Talking to me.”

She blows a puff of air out through her pursed lips and runs a hand through her thicket of hair. “I don’t know. It’s just—I know how much I’m hurting right now. And if someone else is feeling that way, well, nobody deserves to. Even you.” She gives him a tiny smile to make up for the deprecating comment. “If I can’t help myself, I’m going to help someone else, at least. Unless you want me to go…”

“No, stay,” Eridan says sharply. His hand shoots out to catch Aradia’s arm before she can leave. “It helps. Thanks.”

“Okay,” she says.

They watch Sollux and Feferi until the couple leave. Sometimes they talk in low, hushed voices; a lot of the time, they’re silent. Aradia doesn’t seem to mind the lack of conversation at all. In fact, she seems more content that way.

There are times when Eridan looks over at her and is struck by the pure, unadulterated sorrow on her face. She’s got the kind of features that display emotion well; he wonders how the hell Sollux hadn’t noticed how she felt, if her face was so expressive. She’s kind of pretty, too. Not as pretty as Fef, of course; not pretty in the conventional way that Eridan usually goes for. But she’s beautiful in a strange, off-kilter way that makes him want to stare at her until he figures out why she’s so attractive.

At some point, Aradia lets out a huge yawn and pillows her arms on the table, resting her chin on her forearm. Her eyelids look like they’re about to slide shut. Eridan doubts she’ll fall asleep, but he doesn’t want to have to wake her up if she does.

“You okay?” he asks, shaking her shoulder.

She looks up at him blearily. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. Work is long.”

“Here.” He slides his coffee across the table to her. It’s probably cold and gross right now, but it’s all he can offer.

“You don’t want it?”

Eridan makes a face. “It’s, uh…”

“I get it.” She laughs and downs half the cup in one gulp. “Gross, I know, but I’m used to it by now.”

She does wake up a bit after the cup of coffee, and even begins to talk to him. Initially, Eridan’s surprised—he’d gotten used to their amiable silence—but he kind of likes listening to Aradia speak. It makes him feel a little less alone.

“I met him when I was four,” she starts softly. “I moved into the house next to his. He was this shy little thing—always hiding behind his dad and whatnot. His entire family was scared of mine. Well, my mom and my sister, at least, and I get why. But it took a while before Sollux would even come near my house for fear of Damara cussing him out in Japanese again.”

“Damara?” he asks.

Aradia rolls her eyes. “My sister. She’s kind of a handful.”

He chuckles. “Hey, you’re not the only one with terrible siblings. Be glad you’ve never had to meet Cronus Ampora. Actually—you probably have, he’s obsessed with this place. He thinks he was born in the wrong century, shoulda been a ‘50s greaser or whatever.”

Her face lights up in recognition. “Oh, wait. Is he kind of tall? Blond hair like yours’, sleazy, always smoking?” When Eridan nods, she throws a hand over her mouth and erupts into loud peals of laughter, her whole body shaking. “Oh my god, that’s your _brother?_ ”

“Yeah,” he groans.

“He’s so _creepy_!” exclaims Aradia. “He hits on me every time he comes in here? Last time, he compared me to that emo girl in the Breakfast Club as some kind of come-on, and then he asked if I wanted a breakfast in bed club with him or something—I mean, that’s probably the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard!”

“Yeah, that’s definitely him.” Why did his brother have to be such a _douche?_ “I’m nothing like him, I promise,” he adds hastily.

Aradia smirks. “I can tell. At least you haven’t made any thinly-veiled propositions for sex yet.”

Eridan must have made some kind of strange expression at that, because Aradia asks “What, I’m not worthy of having sex with the great Eridan Ampora?”

“What?” Eridan splutters.

“It’s not like it’s some huge secret, Eridan,” Aradia says, her voice filled with sarcasm. “We all know you’ve tried to sleep with like half the cheerleading team by this point. No offense, but have you ever considered that’s why Feferi might not want to date you?”

“I—wait, what?” he asks again. He feels bewildered. The way Aradia puts it sounds like he just sleeps around for the hell of it, and while that might be true in one or two cases, _half_ the cheerleading team is a massive exaggeration. He doesn’t even think there are that many girls in the whole world willing to talk to him for more than five minutes, present company included.

She sighs. “Just because I’m not on student council doesn’t mean I don’t get secondhand gossip.”

“I have _not_ slept with half the cheerleading team!” he exclaims incredulously. “Maybe one or two people, yeah, but not half the goddamn—“

“Your accent sounds funnier when you’re mad,” she giggles.

“Oh my _god._ ” Eridan slouches back, exasperated. “There’s no way to win with you.”

“Oh, there is,” she smirks. “You’re just not my type.”

Under almost every single other circumstance, Eridan would be completely pissed off by now. He never lets anyone get away with talking to him like this. But for some reason, he isn’t that mad at Aradia. Maybe it’s the way she says it, her insults coming out tinged with enough teasing sarcasm that he knows she isn’t all that serious, or just the fact that he knows she’s hurting just as much as he is no matter how she hides it and she’s probably not acting like herself. Or maybe it’s just because he can’t stand to alienate her now, when she’s the only company he has.

Whatever the reason, he doesn’t storm out of the booth in a dramatic huff. Instead, he stays there, his eyes drifting lazily between Aradia and Feferi’s table.

“I think they’re about to leave,” Aradia comments softly.

Sure enough, Sollux and Feferi stand up, and Sollux helps Feferi into her fuchsia coat. Eridan holds his breath as they walk towards him and Aradia.

“Crap,” Aradia mutters.

The next thing he knows, she’s gone from his side, and his arm is being yanked down. He looks down incredulously. Aradia is kneeling under the table, her eyes bright and mischievous.

“Get down, you idiot!” she exclaims in an overly dramatic stage whisper.

Eridan glances up. Feferi and Sollux haven’t spotted him yet, but they’re coming towards him quickly.

He blames his next actions on pure adrenaline.

The underside of the diner table is disgusting. It’s coated in a thick layer of crusted chewing gum, and the floor is scattered with fallen food and debris. Eridan grimaces as he squats, trying to prevent his pants from being dirtied. Aradia doesn’t seem to mind—she’s kneeling there grinning as if it’s the most fun she’s ever had.

“Ar, what the fuck?” he asks.

Aradia shushes him. “They’re going to hear us!”

Beyond the edge of the table, two pairs of feet are passing them. Eridan recognizes one as Fef’s favorite pair of boots, and a moment later her sweet voice drifts down.

“I had such a great time tonight, Sollux,” she sighs. Aradia gags and mimes sticking a finger down her throat. Eridan can barely stop himself from cracking up.

“Me too, ff,” Sollux replies in his annoying, lispy voice, and Eridan feels a concentrated blast of resentment at him. _He_ should be the one leading Fef out of that restaurant.

Maybe he made a noise, or maybe he just looks angry, because Aradia lays her hand on his arm as if to comfort him. She looks angry, too, but it’s mostly diluted with sorrow. After a long, tense moment, Sollux and Feferi’s feet pass, and Eridan feels a chilly breeze as the door opens and shuts.

Aradia ducks out from under the table. When Eridan emerges, he begins to rigorously brush off his pants. Oh god, they’re probably stained with something disgusting. They’re never getting clean again, he thinks morosely.

For her part, Aradia’s hair is gloriously messed up and staticky from rubbing against the bottom of the table. She doesn’t seem to care about that or her dusty knees, though. She’s laughing through the hurt still visible on her face.

“Calm down, it’s not that dirty,” she tells him. “You look fine.”

Eridan stops brushing his pants but still winces. “Did you really have to do that?” he asks sourly.

Aradia nods. “Did you want Feferi to know that you were stalking her?”

“I wasn’t stalkin’ her!” he exclaims indignantly.

“She doesn’t know that,” says Aradia.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re thin-skinned,” she says sweetly.

Eridan rolls his eyes. “Let’s get out of here. I’m sick of this place.”

It’s dark and chilly when they exit the diner. Aradia’s shivering in her thin blouse, but when Eridan asks if she’s cold, she replies “I’m used to it.”

The mostly empty parking lot is lit by a single street lamp. Otherwise, the only light comes from the moon and stars overhead. Eridan makes a beeline for his car, but after a moment realizes Aradia’s not following him. She’s instead walking towards the sparsely-lit Main Street the parking lot opens onto.

“Ar, wait,” he calls. “Where’d you park your car? At least let me walk you, you shouldn’t be alone out here at night.”

“Aren’t you chivalrous,” she smirks. She takes a step back towards him so she’s standing under a streetlight, the concentrated yellow beam shining down on her so she’s illuminated. “I don’t have a car.”

“How do you get home, then?”

“Town bus,” she says simply.

Since when did they even have a town bus? “Do you want me to wait with you?”

“Nah, I don’t want to keep you here for another hour,” she answers. “Thanks, though.”

“Like hell I’m lettin’ you wait out here in the cold for an hour.”

Eridan walks over to where she’s standing on the verge of the sidewalk, spinning his car keys around one finger. “At least let me drive you home.”

“You don’t have to do that, Eridan,” she protests.

“And you don’t have to get fuckin’ hypothermia. Come on.”

He takes hold of Aradia’s arm and gently pulls her back towards his car. She’s rolling her eyes and protesting, but it’s in a playful way, and besides, he doesn’t want to leave her alone out here. She could get mugged or something, and while he might not know her that well, she’s not a bad person and she doesn’t deserve that.

His car beeps at him in greeting when he unlocks it, and Aradia snorts derisively. “Who would ever need a car that expensive?” she asks.

“Hey, I love my car,” Eridan says defensively.

“And I like having enough money to pay for college.” Aradia slides into the passenger seat and looks around the car, her eyes a little wider. Eridan knows she’s impressed. Or at least, she should be.

She holds herself stiffly, as if the car will break if she leans back in the seat. It’s kind of strange seeing her there. Eridan’s so used to Fef’s presence in the passenger seat that it’s disconcerting to have another girl there instead.

“You can relax, you know,” he says as the car growls to life.

Aradia looks like she’s going to say something, but before she can get the words out, the stereo starts blasting. _Shit._

Eridan scrambles for the off button, but Aradia stops his hand. She’s got a pensive looks on her face. “I didn’t think you were the type to listen to Weezer,” she says.

“I…well, yeah,” he admits.

She turns the volume down a bit so they can talk normally, but doesn’t turn it off. In fact, she actually starts tapping her foot to the beat of _El Scorcho._ “Good song,” she says. “Not their best album, though.”

“Yeah, right.” Eridan pulls onto the empty street. “They’ve never done anything better than this.”

“What about the Blue Album?”

“Bullshit,” he says derisively. “Crappy pop-rock. Doesn’t even compare.”

“Oh, of course you’d be the type who prefers whiny, self-indulgent emo,” she retorts.

“What are you saying?”

She smirks. “There are two, maybe three good songs on this one. Otherwise, you’ve got no taste.”

“ _You’ve_ got no taste!” he exclaims.

Then Aradia laughs—actually _laughs_ —and says, “Whatever. Take a left here.”

Halfway through _Pink Triangle,_ she starts singing along softly. She’s got a good voice, Eridan has to admit, even if the only time he’s heard her sing is during a rock song about lesbians. When he starts humming the guitar line, it encourages her to sing louder, and by the time they get around to the last chorus, they’re shouting the lyrics together. Eridan feels drunk, but in the best way possible. He can barely remember the last time he sang this loudly.

When the CD goes into _Falling For You,_ Aradia stops singing and relaxes back. “This one’s my favorite,” she tells him.

It’s Eridan’s favorite, too, but he doesn’t say that. He just nods along to the beat of the song.

Aradia gives him quiet instructions on how to get to her place, and after a few minutes, he’s pulled up in front of a non-descript white house. It’s strangely normal, identical to all the houses surrounding it. Eridan feels kind of disappointed. For some reason, he’d expected goth-girl Megido to live somewhere more…exciting.

“Thanks for the ride,” Aradia says. She doesn’t move yet, though. The CD’s on the last track now, and it’s a quiet, acoustic one that always makes Eridan want to fall asleep. She looks tired now, too.

“Anytime,” he tells her, and strangely, he thinks he means it. “Go get some sleep, you look tired.”

“Yeah, I am.” She blinks a couple times and straightens out her legs, reaching for the door handle. The night smells crisp when the door opens.

Aradia pauses before she closes it behind her. “Thank you, Eridan,” she says softly.

He nods. “Thanks, Ar.”

Eridan sits in her driveway and watches Aradia disappear into her house. A minute later, a light appears in an upstairs window, and the curtain twitches aside. Her face appears.

She waves at him, and he waves back hesitantly. Then the curtain falls back into place, and she’s gone.


	5. i'll be your best-kept secret

_Can I lay in your bed all day?  
I’ll be your best-kept secret and your biggest mistake_

_-Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner_

After Eridan drives away, Aradia collapses back onto her bed, completely exhausted. Her feelings are tangled up in a huge knot.

_Eridan Ampora? Really?_

It’s so strange, she thinks. A week ago—even a day ago—she’d written him off as a stuck-up bastard. But he _does_ have feelings, and a sense of humor, and a decent taste in music. She has no idea what to do with the information. Can she keep thinking about him like this? Does she try to be friends with him, to salvage whatever the hell this tentative camaraderie between them is, or is it an exclusively fragile incident that will shatter once exposed to the harsh light of high school?

And then there’s Sollux.

Aradia throws a hand over her eyes and tries to shut the images out of her mind. But she can’t. The memories are all there, vivid and immediate: Sollux and Feferi walking into the diner, her laughing and him holding the door for her while Aradia ducks behind the diner counter; their fingers interlacing on top of the polished table; them sharing dessert, feeding it to each other; their feet passing by as they sigh to each other.

Did he kiss her on her doorstep after he drove her home? Aradia thinks savagely. She bets Feferi didn’t appreciate it. She’s probably kissed hundreds of other guys. She doesn’t deserve him. That should be Aradia in Sollux’s arms, her lips on his, her hands tangled in his hair, reaching up to remove his glasses as he holds her tight.

And Feferi should be in Eridan’s. Aradia has no doubt that he loves her just as deeply as Aradia loves Sollux. Eridan deserves to be happy, too. He’s not a bad guy. Feferi would be lucky to have him.

Her computer is beeping at her from across the room. Aradia spends a long time trying to decide if it’s worth exerting the effort, but finally she pulls herself to her feet to check her messages.

\-- twinArmageddons[TA]began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA]  at 23:08 –

TA: hey aa

TA: you there?

Aradia feels her stomach drop. For the first time in her life, she really doesn’t want to talk to Sollux. \

TA: cmon aa

TA: are you a2leep already

It takes every last bit of her willpower to walk away from the computer. Sollux keeps messaging her—she can see the feed of yellow text growing longer and longer on the screen—but she lies down on her bed fully clothed, buries her head in her pillow, and forces herself to fall asleep.

*

Sunday flies by in a characteristically lazy manner. Aradia spends the day trying to avoid Sollux in any way she can. She knows she’s probably being stupid about the whole thing, but she can’t stand the thought of having to pretend nothing’s wrong when she’s the angriest at him she’s ever been in her life and she can’t even tell him why.

He messages her a couple times, but she distracts herself with schoolwork. Damara’s out on a “date”—if you can even call it that; Damara’s never seen any of the poor guys she fucks after the one night she spends with them—and her mother’s gone, as usual. Aradia’s got the place to herself.

It’s nice being able to have some time alone, without her sister or her friends or having to waste it at work. She spends a little time FLARPing with Tavros, but a lot of the afternoon is spent sleeping and reading.

It helps a lot. She’s able to compose herself by the next morning when Sollux picks her up.

“Hey, aa,” he says as soon as she climbs into the car. “You okay? You weren’t answering Pesterchum all weekend.”

“Just busy.” Aradia works to keep her voice steady.

Sollux makes a sympathetic noise. “Working again? I was at the diner Saturday night but I didn’t see you.”

 _You ignorant asshole._ “I wasn’t there,” lies Aradia.

“Oh, alright.” He doesn’t even question it.

Aradia wants to scream.

All morning, she pretends to be concentrating very hard on her schoolwork, even though there’s a substitute in French and everyone gets their classwork done in five minutes. She hides beneath the bleachers where Feferi won’t see her in gym, but period five sneaks up on her, and before she knows it she’s standing outside her precalc classroom with Sollux next to her when Feferi comes running up.

“Hey, Sollux!” she exclaims, flinging her arms around his neck. She plants a huge kiss on his cheek.

Sollux grins. “Hey, ff. You’ve met aa before, right?”

Feferi nods excitedly and shoots an overly large, mostly-fake smile at Aradia. “We’re _great_ friends! Right, Aradia?”

“Uh, yeah,” Aradia mumbles. She’s talked to Feferi maybe three times in her life, she thinks. What the actual hell.

“You’ll have to come—“ begins Feferi, but the second bell goes— _thank god—_ and they have to rush inside. When Aradia dumps her stuff down in her normal seat, Feferi takes the one in front of her. She sends the back of Feferi’s perfectly-styled black hair the most pointed glare she can muster. The hostility is probably still lingering on her face when Feferi turns around.

“I bet you’re good at precalc, aren’t you?” she asks. “You must be, you’ve got the best calc teacher _ever_ as your best friend!”

Aradia really wants to tell both Feferi and Sollux not to talk to her, but she manages to restrain herself for the rest of the period. Mostly, she stays silent for as long as she can. There are some times when Sollux and Feferi direct pointed questions at her and she can’t ignore them unless she pretends to be deaf, but for the most part, she tries to black out whatever disgustingly mushy conversation they’re having.

Feferi walks with them to lunch, blathering the whole way, but to Aradia’s immense relief leaves them for her normal table. A brief thought flashes across Aradia’s mind—how is Eridan doing? Is he okay?—but it fades away just as quickly when she sits down.

Even here among people she loves, though, it seems she can’t escape Sollux and Feferi’s epic love story. The second Sollux sits down, Nepeta is bouncing excitedly and asking “How’d it go? How’d it go?”

“Calm down, np,” Sollux laughs. “It went…really great, actually.”

“Aww!” Nepeta launches herself at Sollux, capturing him in a rib-crushing hug. “I’m so happy for you, Sollux! I always knew you two would make a great couple!”

Equius nods. “She’s certainly a wonderful girl, from the looks of it.”

“She seems really nice,” adds Tavros.

Even John seems happy about the development, which pisses Aradia off. She’d been counting on him to be the only sane one in the group. “Maybe now you can get her to introduce me to Vriska,” he says eagerly.

“Oh my god, jn,” Sollux groans, but he has a huge smile on his face.

Aradia’s silent. She stabs at her rubbery, overcooked cafeteria pasta violently. Each noodle is Feferi, and the fork is a huge, pointy trident.

Sollux hasn’t noticed her bad mood all day, but at least her other friends have. After a couple more minutes of the Feferi Peixes Worship Show, Tavros finally addresses her. “Aradia? Are you okay? You seem very, uh, quiet.”

She nods. “I’m okay,” she says quietly.

Nepeta turns to her. “I know what’s wrong,” she declares. “Aradia’s feeling lonely! She needs a boyfriend, too!”

Internally, Aradia groans. So close, and yet so far.

“I’m fine, Nepeta,” she says, but Nepeta doesn’t hear it. She’s already off in her crazy shipping world where everyone in the school is a potential couple.

“What about Dave? He doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s really nice, Aradia, and he says really funny things sometimes. Or what about Jade’s little brother Jake? I know he’s a year younger than you, but that doesn’t matter too much. I think you two have a lot in common, you would get along really well! You should try talking to him anyway, actually. And—oh, there’s Eridan! I don’t know much about him, but—“

“Nepeta, stop.”

She snaps her mouth shut, the fanatic light fading from her green eyes. “Oh,” she says softly. “Okay.”

Equius is giving her a very disapproving look, but Aradia honestly doesn’t care. She feels bad cutting Nepeta off like that, of course, but she couldn’t deal with it any more. She would have ended up either crying or screaming or both.

“I’m sorry,” says Aradia. “I’m just really tired today.”

Great, now she’s gotten everyone worried. Even Sollux is looking at her with concern. She’s not usually this crabby with her friends, no matter how long she’s had to work the night before or how horrible her mother and Damara were being. No wonder they’re all looking at her strangely.

She pretends to busy herself with the history homework she’d already done the night before and after a tense moment, her friends begin another tentative conversation. This one is free of Feferi, so after a moment, Aradia shuts her book and tunes back in.

“Yes, there’s a rather important game on Friday night,” Equius is saying. “I am quite distraught.”

“Well, we’ll be there to cheer you on, eq,” Sollux reassures him.

Nepeta frowns and looks guilty. “Actually…” she says. “I’m sorry, Equius, but I’m going to visit Meulin this Friday! I’m sure you’ll do wonderful, though.”

“Yeah, I’ve got another, uh, doctor’s appointment,” adds Tavros.

Equius frowns. “At least you will be there, Aradia?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Aradia smiles, and offers him a one-armed hug. It’s only later that she realizes this means she and Sollux will be alone at the game together.

Friday night sneaks up on her in a remarkably uneventful manner. Everything seems to have settled back to normal with Sollux. There’s still too much Feferi in her life for Aradia’s liking, and there’s still an ache in her chest whenever she sees her best friend. But she can survive.

Besides, Friday night lights are something she knows well. Equius has been a star quarterback since freshman year, and consequently, Aradia frequents the games with her friends to cheer him on. For the short period of time that they were dating sophomore year, she’d be down at the locker room waiting for him to get off the field, but these days she just watches from the stands happily with her friends.

Tonight, though, it’s only Sollux keeping her company. He drives her to the game as night is falling. The inside of the car is dim and warm, and it’s almost like old times. For a moment, Aradia lets herself pretend that Feferi Peixes was never more than another girl at school, and there’s still a chance for her. And when Sollux’s hand brushes her arm and he smiles at her with that special smile he only ever uses for her, she can almost believe it.

The night is chilly for September. It hits Aradia that autumn, her favorite season, is actually beginning. The leaves on the trees are orange and red and resplendent under the harsh fluorescent floodlights. She shivers slightly and takes a huge gulp of air, crisp on her tongue. It’s got that distinct fall flavor that’s so specific to New England.

“I’ll make the hot chocolate run,” Sollux offers. “You get us seats?”

“Usual spot,” affirms Aradia. She watches as Sollux’s gangly form lopes off toward the small refreshment hut and is swallowed in the crush of people.

The stands are more full than normal tonight. Many of the fans are wearing red and black, their school’s colors, but there’s a significant portion decked out in gold and blue. Aradia wouldn’t dare invade that section—she’s got a red sweater on, and besides, they probably wouldn’t take kindly to her and Sollux chanting  the name of the opposition’s star quarterback the whole time.

Instead, she plants herself firmly on the red-and-black side, far on the left by one of the touchdown zones and mostly away from any crowds. The chill of the metal bleacher seeps through her jeans, and she blows on her hands to keep them warm.

The school band is blowing away from the field, as out-of-tune and out-of-step as always. Aradia squints and tries to pick John out of the maroon mass. Finally, she finds him near the front with his clarinet. His beret is tilted the wrong way and looks like it’s about to fall off. She smiles affectionately.

It’s taking Sollux a while to get back, she thinks absently. Maybe he saw Karkat or Terezi or another one of his sort-of friends. She wants her hot chocolate and his blanket and body heat, though. Her thin sweater does barely anything against the cold.

At the end of the field, the scoreboard lights up, and Aradia begins to glance around more quickly. He has to be here when the team comes out. They always cheer for Equius as loudly as they possibly can when he runs out of the locker room.

She can’t see him anywhere, though. Briefly, she debates going back to the snack stand to see if he’s just stuck in the line or something, but dismisses it because she’s worried he won’t be able to find her. She tries texting him, but he never answers.

s0llux where are y0u              sent at 7:24 pm

the games g0ing t0 start s00n     sent at 7:26 pm

s0llux are y0u 0kay               sent at 7:35 pm

She’s still staring at the little glowing screen when the crowd starts roaring. Startled, she glances up to see the cheerleaders had begun a routine: they’re twirling and cartwheeling in a blur of black and red.

Aradia watches with a morbid fascination as they assemble into a pyramid. Even from here, she can tell that the girl on top is Feferi. Her bushy hair is tied back in a slick, shiny ponytail and her face is split by an animated grin.

The rest of the cheerleaders toss her into the air, and for a moment, Aradia wishes she would fall and break her neck. But they catch her safely in the basket of their arms to a swell of cheers from the crowd, and she shouts “Go Alternia High!” and runs to the edge of the field.

Where Sollux is waiting for her.

Aradia feels bile rising in her throat. Heat rushes to fill her face, and with a flash of embarrassment, she realizes she’s about to cry. She presses her fists to the corners of her eyes and tries not to vomit.

The crowd is too loud, and the lights are too bright for her eyes. She squeezes her eyelids shut, forcing back tears. She has to get out of here.

She stands up, desperate and about to run for the dark, quiet safety of the parking lot, when she remembers that Sollux is her only ride home. Her stomach lurches sickeningly when she sits back down.

They’re still down there on the field, happily watching from the sidelines as the team pours out onto the field. Sollux’s arm is around Feferi’s shoulders. They cheer when Equius comes running out of the locker room, but all Aradia can feel is loneliness and desertion, tempered with too much anger. She pulls her knees against her chest and wraps her arms around herself.

The band plays the national anthem and the buzzer goes off to start the game and the cheerleading team leaves the field, but Sollux stays there with Feferi. Aradia feels a white-hot stab of anger. Fine, then. She doesn’t need him anyway.

But she’s cold without the blanket they brought, and it’s so lonely up here in the bleachers, away from the crush of the crowd in the middle. She tries to watch Equius play, but the tears still threaten her calm façade behind her eyes. She loses him to the mass of red-helmeted athletes after ten minutes.

She has never felt so alone in her life.

The bleachers shake with footsteps, and Aradia prays that the person will pass her by and is not someone she knows and will have to make small, meaningless conversation with while she tries to stop herself from screaming.

The footsteps stop before they reach her, and she glances down, listless. Standing at the foot of the bleachers is Eridan.

His eyes sweep over the crowd until they catch on hers’. He stares at her for a moment, and Aradia looks back at him evenly. He seems lost.

After a tentative moment, he begins to climb the bleachers towards her. Aradia watches him, half-curious and half-defensive, until he stops at the end of her row.

“Can I sit here?” he asks hesitantly.

Aradia shrugs. “Nobody else is.”

She looks away when Eridan sits down next to her. Sollux and Feferi are still cuddling by the sidelines; she’s got Sollux’s blanket wrapped around her.

Quickly, she tears her gaze away. Eridan’s watching them, too. His expression is tangled up in resentment and anger and longing.

“That should be me down there,” he says bitterly.

 _And you’re supposed to be Sollux,_ she almost says. Instead, she tells him “At least there’s a better view up here.”

He sighs. “I don’t even like football.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Aradia stares down at her hands and watches them fray at the hem of her sweater. Her fingers are turning red from the cold.

“So why are you here?” asks Eridan. “I didn’t take you for the kind’a person who’d go to one’a these stupid things.”

“My friend Equius is on the football team,” she replies.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re friends with Eq Zahhak? Really?”

The buzzer goes off, and Aradia looks down at the field. One of the red-and-black players just scored a touchdown. Upon closer inspection, Aradia can see the number _39_ on his back—it’s Equius.

“Never talked to the guy, but he’s a damn good football player, isn’t he?” comments Eridan.

She nods, watching Equius get tackled by his own team members in some strange ritualistic football tradition. “Yeah, he really loves it. I always come to cheer him on.”

Eridan smiles a little and lets out a yell of “Go, Eq!” It makes Aradia giggle.

“I’m just here for Fef,” he tells her while the team prepares to kick off again. “She’s really into cheerleading and stuff. I always get bored, though.”

Aradia nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! It’s been nearly three years and I still don’t understand how the stupid game works.”

“Okay, well basically someone kicks the ball and they slam into each other to get it back and they have to run for the ends a’ the fields and if they kick it through that thing—“

“You’re just confusing me more,” Aradia interrupts.

His face turns a little pink, although that might just be because of the cold. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kind of like listening to you talk.”

He definitely turns pink when she says that. Aradia’s not sure where the words came from, but it’s not like they’re untrue. She doesn’t actually mind hearing Eridan speak. It makes her feel less lonely, and his strange, wavery accent is more endearing than pretentious.

They watch the game in companionable silence, and Aradia doesn’t feel alone anymore. It’s enough to know she’s got another person breathing next to her, even if it is just Eridan. They cheer sometimes whenever Equius takes possession of the ball, and there are spurts of conversation every now and again, but Aradia’s perfectly okay with not talking, too.

Half time sneaks up on them before Aradia realizes it. The cheerleaders rush out onto the field to do their stupid routine, and Eridan watches, entranced, as they throw Feferi into the air again. Aradia feels kind of bad for wishing death on the other girl. She still wants her out of her life, but it’d probably break Eridan’s heart all over again, and he of all people deserves another broken heart just as much as she does.

Eridan stands up when the school band starts playing a terrible rendition of Sweet Caroline. “You want something to eat?” he asks Aradia.

She doesn’t want to get up and run the risk of finding someone else she knows, but her stomach growls in protest at that exact moment. “Sure,” she says.

She follows Eridan down the bleachers, most of her attention still focused on the band. John’s up front, out of step and with his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. He looks hilarious.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” asks Eridan.

Aradia sobers up slightly. “Oh, just my friend in the band. He looks kind of silly.”

Eridan squints at the field. “Who, John Egbert?”

“Yeah,” answers Aradia. “You know him?”

He chuckles. “Nah, not really. But I feel like I do with the amount Vris talks about him.”

“What?” Aradia gasps.

Eridan rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, she’s _fascinated_ by him. Thinks he’s a dork, but still, she’s got some weird infatuation with geeks, I guess.”

She bursts into shocked laughter. “That’s _awesome!_ ”

“Why?” asks Eridan, confused.

Aradia smirks. “Because John’s been in love with Vriska for the past two years.”

This time, it’s Eridan’s turn to laugh as they make their way across the sideline in front of the bleachers. “In love with Vris Serket? Poor guy.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure—“ Aradia cuts off suddenly, her stomach rising into her throat. “Shit.”

“What?” Eridan says, but she’s already pulling him away from Sollux and Feferi.

They pass by a few feet away from Eridan and Aradia, but don’t notice them, too involved in their own conversation. Aradia gnaws on her lip and tries not to either run to or away from Sollux.

“Ar, you’re cuttin’ off circulation,” mutters Eridan.

“Oh.” She didn’t realize she was still holding on to his arm. “Sorry.”

After a minute, Sollux and Feferi are swallowed up in the crowd, and they relax. Aradia murmurs “Sorry about that.”

Eridan shakes his head. “I get it. I didn’t really want to talk to her either.”

“I don’t want to stay here,” says Aradia. “Can we get out of here?”

Eridan’s parked his car at the top of the hill by the school, so they begin the long trek up lit only by occasional floodlights. Aradia shivers and wraps her arms around her torso. It’s gotten even colder over the course of the night, and her thin sweater and jeans aren’t enough to block out the autumn chill.

“Are you cold?” asks Eridan.

“What gave it away?” Aradia retorts. She means it to sound sarcastic, but her teeth chatter and it ruins the effect.

They pass under a floodlight, and Aradia can see his eyes are concerned. “You’re shiverin’,” he tells her, completely serious. “Here, c’mon.”

He stops her under the light with a hand on her arm. Aradia watches as he unwinds the blue-striped scarf from around his neck. “It’s not much,” he tells her regretfully as he carefully wraps it around her.

“It’s okay,” Aradia says, and smiles. “Giving girls your jacket is overrated.”

The scarf smells like a strange combination of wool, cologne and seawater. The scent is oddly comforting. It’s warm and heavy around her neck, and Aradia burrows in, her lips scratching against rough wool.

Eridan looks different without his scarf. His jaw is strong and stubbly, and his face looks more open without heavy fabric covering his mouth. It makes him seem more vulnerable. Aradia kind of wants to hug him.

He blasts the heat as soon as they get in his car, but Aradia doesn’t give his scarf back, and he doesn’t ask for it. When the car starts, music comes blasting through the speakers again.

“I thought you didn’t like this album,” says Aradia as Eridan pulls out onto the road.

His mouth turns up at one corner. “I’m tryin’ to figure out how the hell you like it.”

Eridan doesn’t drive her straight home, but stops at the little coffee shop next to the movie theater on Main Street. He cuts the engine and turns to her. “You a coffee drinker?”

“I can be,” replies Aradia.

“Awesome.”

The street is cold and deserted, illuminated by golden puddles of molten light. In the dark, the coffee shop is even more inviting. Eridan holds the door open for Aradia. She smirks at him. “Such a gentleman,” she teases.

His expression swiftly falls, and he mumbles, “Yeah.”

Crap. What had she done wrong? Aradia reaches out and gently takes his hand, trying to convey as much comfort as she can with her eyes, and after a moment he mutters “It’s just something Fef used to say” and follows her inside.

The coffee shop is filled with a low buzz of activity. The overstuffed couches and high wooden tables scattered around the room are occupied by people writing, reading, and talking with huge mugs of coffee in their hands. Aradia doesn’t go here often, but she thinks she should; it’s a cute place, and she likes the atmosphere.

“What do you want?” asks Eridan, pulling out his wallet.

Aradia glances up at the chalkboard menu. It’s full of weird, organic-sounding words like ‘herbal infusion’ and ‘acai-berry additive,’ and she has to look for a whole minute until she finds the section for regular coffee.

“I guess just a cappuccino,” she tells him.

“Make that a large cappuccino and a large chai-vanilla latte, skim milk, double espresso, extra foam and whipped cream with cinnamon to go,” he relays to the girl behind the counter.

Aradia laughs. “A what?” she asks as Eridan pulls out his wallet. “Oh, no. You aren’t paying for mine.”

“I’m a gentleman,” Eridan retorts.

“And I’m a twenty-first century woman. What do you think this is, a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” he asks her mischievously.

“A date with you?” She raises an eyebrow. “In your dreams, maybe.”

“In _your_ dreams, Ar.”

Their coffee comes out a minute later in two tall Styrofoam cups, and Aradia’s smells rich and foamy when she lifts it to her lips. Eridan takes a sip of his and wrinkles his nose.

“They forgot the cinnamon.”

“Oh, come on, drama prince,” she says. “Let’s go.”

The car ride to her house is marked with the taste of coffee, the smell of Eridan’s scarf and the sound of the Weezer CD that Aradia made Eridan leave in his stereo. She goes through his CD collection while he drives, making occasional comments, and he usually disagrees with everything she says. Aradia’s pretty sure he’s just doing to annoy her, but she doesn’t really mind. It’s nice having someone to talk about her music to.

Her house is dark when Eridan pulls up. (He remembers the way almost perfectly, notes Aradia.) The engine dies with a smooth purr, Rivers Cuomo’s voice disappearing with it.

“Thanks for driving me home,” Aradia says.

“Thanks for keepin’ me company.”

She can feel his gaze on the side of her face, and she turns to look at him. Eridan’s violet eyes are luminescent in the darkness.

They both kind of lean forward at the same time and then fall into a quick, awkward embrace, Eridan’s hands strong on Aradia’s back for the briefest of seconds. He smells just like his scarf, and his stubble scratches her cheek. For a moment, Aradia clings to Eridan harder than she’s held onto anything in her life.

Then they both let go once they realize what they’re doing—a bit reluctantly, at least on Aradia’s part—and smile at each other, secretly brazen in the dark.

“I’ll see you soon,” Aradia tells him, and she means it.

It’s only when she gets back to her room that she realizes she still has his scarf wrapped around her neck. She pulls it tighter and falls asleep to wool and seawater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hell yeah i did the html by myself this time ~~after failing about ten thousand times~~


	6. i'm hopelessly hopeful, you're just hopeless enough

_My back has been breaking from this heavy heart-_  
 _We never seemed so far_  
 _I’m hopelessly hopeful, you’re just hopeless enough_  
 _But we never had it at all_

_-I’ve Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)_

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] began pestering caligulasAquarium [CA]at 22:32 PM – 

AA: hell0 eridan

CA: oh hey ar

CA: to wwhat do I owwe this pleasure

AA: i just wanted t0 thank y0u 0nce again f0r all y0u have d0ne f0r me

AA: y0uve been very kind t0 me s0

AA: thanks eridan 0u0

AA: n0 that l00ks stupid

CA: yeah it kinda does

CA: but youre wwelcome ar seriously anytime

CA: anyone evver told you youre a great listener

AA: 0n 0ccasion

CA: cause you really are

AA: well thank y0u eridan

AA: i h0pe ill see y0u again s00n

CA: same here

CA: night ar

AA: sleep well eridan

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased pestering caligulasAquarium [CA]at 22:39 PM – 

Eridan stares at the screen kind of blankly, the alternating red-and-purple text blurring together in front of his eyes. He’d given Aradia his chumhandle the night before, but he hadn’t really expected her to use it, much less this soon. He was surprised, to say the least, and definitely caught off guard—but at the same time, there’s a strange and yet familiar warmth in his chest. His eyes keep being drawn back to her dumb emote. It really does look stupid, he thinks. At the same time, though, it’s kind of cute.

She’s still got his scarf, but for some reason, he doesn’t mind. The thought of Aradia with it just makes the warmth grow. His eyes trace over the conversation again, catching on key phrases—“all you have done for me,” “I hope I’ll see you again soon”—and then he realizes he’s sitting at his computer in the dark, staring at the screen with the hugest, dorkiest grin on his face. He quickly shuts out of the conversation and closes his computer.

But he has Aradia Megido on the brain.

When he turns on his stereo, he starts wondering if Aradia likes this band, too, or if she’d pass it off as pretentious indie. His homework draws to mind memories of her in history class, her dark hair bent over a textbook as she works diligently. Even the familiar scent of coffee bring him back to the car the night before and how warm and fragile and human she’d felt in his arms in the dark, cold night.

The only thing that finally drives her from his mind for a few minutes is a message from Feferi. Eridan’s computer dings half an hour after his talk with Aradia and he rushes over, already composing what he would say to her in his head. When he sees it’s Feferi, for a second, he feels inexplicably disappointed.

It dissipates quickly under a ball of nerves and sadness and anger and loss, though, and Eridan reads her message. It’s brief.

\--cuttlefishCuller [CC] began pestering caligulasAquarium [CA] at 00:12 PM – 

CC: H—-EY -Eridan! 38D

CC: Sorry I lost you at the game last night! It just got so BUSY, you know? I tried texting you when it was over, but I got a ride home with Sollux.

CC: Anyway, hope you didn’t wait TOO long for me! I feel R---E---ELY crappie about it. Message me when you get the chance!

\--cuttlefishCuller [CC] ceased pestering caligulasAquarium [CA] at 00:14 PM – 

Eridan feels a surge of resentment. Fef’s only messaging him _now,_ over twenty-four hours after it actually happened, and all he gets is “I feel R---E---ELY crappie?!” God, she can’t even drop her stupid fish puns and be serious for a minute!

He starts typing out a hostile reply, but realizes how pathetic it is to get worked up over such a small incident. Sure, Feferi was being inconsiderate and Eridan is pissed. But he’s going to be the bigger man here.

Aradia would be proud of him, he thinks as he logs out of Pesterchum and crawls into his bed.

*

He sees her Monday morning in school. She’s walking with Equius Zahhak and pushing a boy in a wheelchair. He wants to run up to her, call out a greeting, wave, _anything,_ but she looks engrossed in a conversation, and by the time he works up the nerve to call out her name she’s gone.

Instead, he hunts down Kanaya, wanting someone to talk to. She’s soaking in the sun at their usual spot—the brick wall at the side of the school—but she’s got Rose and Vriska with her, to Eridan’s distaste.

And, he sees a moment later, Feferi.

She catches sight of him first, calling out “ _Hey,_ Eridan!” exuberantly. For the first time in a week, she’s not surgically attached at the hip to Sollux Captor. Eridan venomously wonders if they’ve broken up yet.

Rose and Vriska chime in with sarcastic greetings as he draws closer, and Kanaya simply offers him a wave and a smile. “It’s good to see you,” she tells him sincerely. “How was your weekend?”

“Okay,” says Eridan. He’s aware he sounds kind of petulant, but there’s no way he’ll be able to pry Kanaya from the claws of her snarky, sarcastic broads, and he kind of wanted to talk to her alone.

Plus, there’s Feferi.

“I tried messaging you over the weekend,” she tells him, frowning. “I’m sorry about ditching you at the game. It was really lame of me, huh?”

“It’s not a big deal, Fef,” Eridan tries to tell her, but she just plows ahead.

“I just got _caught up,_ you know? I was going to look for you, I really was, and I’m sorry I kept you waiting! I tried to find you after I was done, but—“

“Fef, seriously, stop.” Eridan holds up his hands.

Feferi looks up at him quizzically. “Is something wrong?”

He forces himself to shake his head. “I’m fine. Hope you had fun at the game anyway.”

“Oh, I _did!_ ” And she’s off again, running her mouth like it’s her profession, while Eridan tries to block her out as best he can and desperately, crazily wishes Aradia would appear.

*

He catches her eye on the way to Government. She’s flowing out of the gym with a crowd of people, looking tired and her hair tied up in a high ponytail. When she sees him, she initially looks conflicted, like she’s not sure what to do.

Eridan grins at her and waves. After a beat, she smiles back at him and wiggles her fingers, her lips forming the word “hey.”

As she’s carried off by the heavy crowd, Eridan catches sight of dark blue around her neck and realizes she’s wearing his scarf. His heartbeat does this strange little skip accompanied by the now-familiar warmth in his chest. It’s weird—he usually associates those kinds of feelings with Feferi. He still does, of course, because stupid nerdy boyfriend or no Fef was still the love of his life. Ar is just a friend—barely even that, really. Only an acquaintance. She’s funny, and snarky and kind, sure, and more than a little bit beautiful. But just because you buy your beautiful, snarky acquaintance coffee and drive her home a couple times doesn’t mean anything. At _all._

Really, he tells himself, Aradia Megido is about as far from his type as he can get.

*

Actually, that’s a lie. Vriska Serket and Rose Lalonde are as far from his type as he can get.

They’re currently locked in another one of their stupid battles-of-wit, tongues lashing and eyes flashing and no survivors being taken. Kanaya has long since given up on trying to stop it and has retreated to the other side of the table, where she is content to pick apart her salad safely next to Eridan and watch her two psychobitch best friends tear each other apart, half amused and half worried. Eridan just sits back and watches the show. This is pretty much a daily occurrence by now.

The spat probably started over something meaningful to them, petty to regular people, but it’s evolved into a full-on fight now. They’re both throwing swears and insults like guys throw money at a strip club. Eridan already knew Vriska wasn’t afraid to get her fucking hands dirty, but goddamn, Lalonde can be one grade A classy-ass _bitch._

“Your inferior intellect simply can’t comprehend it in such complex language, so I’ll try and make it _easy,_ ” she seethes. “You are a _whore,_ Vriska Serket, and that’s why it’s never going to work out. With him or any other guy.”

“At least I don’t sleep with my own brother!” Vriska retorts shrilly.

Rose reels back as if she’s been slapped, her face turning crimson. “You _tramp,_ ” she hisses. “Don’t bring Dave into this.”

“I thought he was the whole reason we’re even having this conversation,” responds Vriska, her predatory grin sharp and deadly.

Oh god, did she really—

“Yes, because you’re one to talk about sleeping with my brother!” screams Rose.

Fucking _hell,_ Strider.

Vriska flips her hair. “He wasn’t even that good, you know,” she says casually. “I’ve had better.”

“Oh, really?” Rose lowers her voice until it’s an ice-cold whisper. Shit, she’s serious now.  “Like John Egbert?”

She’s found her mark. Vriska’s face blanches, and she stops mid-sentence.

“Don’t bring John into this,” she says weakly.

Rose smirks. “Oh, right, sorry. I forgot. It’s alright, Serket, you’re not missing much.”

“Shut your fucking lying bitching whore mouth, La—“

“Jealous, Serk—“

“ _Guys!”_

The table falls silent the moment she arrives.

Feferi’s hair is rumpled, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling, even though she wears an angry frown on her face. _Captor,_ Eridan thinks, sneering in distaste.

“Don’t fight!” pleads Feferi. “Come on, can’t we all just be friends? What are you even fighting over now?”

“She slept with—“

“She’s accusing me of—“

“Boys,” says Kanaya boredly. “They are fighting over boys. Again.”

Feferi rolls her eyes and cocks a hip. “ _Stop_ it, you guys. Just because you’ve got the same bad taste in boys—“

“Heeeeeeeey!”

“I resent that!”

“—does _not_ mean you can waste every lunch period like this,” she finishes firmly. “I, for one, am _sick_ of it!”

“Same,” mutters Eridan, shooting both the venomous broads a malicious grin.

Rose and Vriska lower their heads like two chastised children, mumbling apologies to the furiously beautiful girl standing over them. They’re still glaring hard at each other from under their bangs, though.

Eridan looks pointedly away from them, shooting an errant glance across the cafeteria. It becomes very non-errant when it lights on a familiar figure, though.

Aradia has her back to him, her chestnut hair tumbling down untamed as she talks animatedly. She’s waving her hands around and he can almost imagine her enraptured face as she talks to the other four people at her table. There’s a significant lack of Captor, he notes with pleasure. At least she won’t have to put up with his douchey habits.

He really wishes he could go over there too.

It’s a strange thought, but he means it. Aradia’s crippled friend and Eq the football star and the crazy cat girl and casanova Serket-stealer John don’t seem that bad, though he’s had minimal interactions with them at best. And then there’s Aradia, who could make a room full of screaming Roses and Vriskas seem enjoyable.  He doesn’t get up, though. Although Aradia’s a friend—no, an acquaintance, he corrects himself—they’re not really at the stage where they’d start hanging out in public yet. And besides, who knows—

“Eridan?” asks Feferi, dropping into the seat next to him.

He snaps to attention, swiveling around to face her. “What, Fef?”

She recoils a little, and Eridan winces, realizing he sounds sharper than he intended. “I just wanted to ask how your morning went,” she says, sounding hurt. “You look tired.”

“I’m alright,” he tells her. “Really, Fef.”

Fef puts a hand on his arm, the warmth of her fingers seeping through his shirt sleeve, and he feels sparks shoot through his veins against his will. Her pretty eyes look up at him, concerned.

“Okay,” she says. “Just remember you can talk to me about anything, Eridan.”

The words were left unsaid, hanging in the air: _anything but how you’re in love with me._

Things had been strained—at best—between them since his stupid confession. Neither of them had brought it up again after it had happened, but they didn’t need to. Eridan knows she remembers every painful second just as clearly as he does.

No, he couldn’t talk to her about anything. He could barely talk to her, period, and it sucks, because on top of the pain left from being hopelessly in love with a girl who would never feel the same about him, he’s missing his best friend.

Feferi smiles at him, but it’s sad, almost wistful. “It’ll be okay,” she says. Eridan wishes he could believe her.

*

Eridan’s working hard to maintain his calm façade, but he feels strangely nervous as he and Kanaya draw closer to the history classroom. She looks kind of pissed, too, and he doesn’t want to set her off on a rant about Rose and Vriska so soon after she finished her one about how Vriska told her she didn’t even sleep with Dave. So he’s got no way to relieve the weird tension building as he pushes open the door, holding it for her like always, and steps inside.

Aradia’s there, of course. Second row on the left, already immersed in her notebook. The seat next to her is empty.

“Hey, Kan?” Eridan says before he can chicken out.

Kanaya makes an indiscriminant questioning noise.

“I’m gonna sit up front today. My grade is down the fuckin’ drain already, so maybe concentrating more will help, y’know?”

She lets out a dismissive chuckle. “You, concentrate? And your grades are fine, Eridan.”

“I just dunno if I’m takin’ this stuff seriously enough,” he tells her, feeling his face beginning to heat.

Kanaya rolls her eyes. “Whatever you want. I wish you luck.”

He’s not sure why he didn’t just tell her the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to confess the real reason. This thing between him and Aradia is still fragile, dangerous, a known quantity only in chilly cars in the dark of night. Exposing it to anyone else could break it easily.

Eridan is cautious as he slides into the seat next to Aradia. He’s fully prepared to be rejected. It’s hard to get a read on her sometimes—she can be volatile, friendly one moment, cold the next—but it’s worth the effort. Or so he hopes.

He clears his throat and says “hey.”

Aradia startles a little, her head jerking up in surprise. When she sees him, the smallest of smiles graces her lips. “What are you doing here?” she asks, not unkindly.

“Wanted a change in scenery,” he tells her offhandedly. He leans back, his arms behind his head, trying to seem casual.

She smirks. “I’m glad to know it had nothing to do with me.”

Oh, shit. “Well, I mean, there’s that too,” he stutters, trying to smooth over his accidental insult without making a fool of himself. “I kind of suck at this class, y’know, and it’d be fuckin’ great to get some help—“  
“Are you asking me to _tutor_ you, Eridan?” she asks, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“No!” he splutters. “Well, that’d be nice too, but…”

“Don’t think too much about it,” she laughs. “C’mon, Mr. Droogs will be in any minute. If you’re going to sit up here, you have to at least pretend to be paying attention.”

“I do pay attention!”

Okay, so that’s a total lie, and both of them know it. Still, Aradia’s laughter is completely uncalled for. Eridan pouts.

“I do,” he repeats in a mutter. “Sometimes.”

“Sure you do,” grins Aradia.

Eridan can practically feel Kanaya staring at his back in confusion, but he resists the urge to turn around and look at her. Instead, he settles for quick glances at Aradia’s profile that she won’t notice once Diamonds appears. He almost does a double take when he sees Eridan so close to the front, sitting next to his best student no less, but he recovers quickly and starts bitching at an idiot in the front row.

Aradia doesn’t offer up any intriguing conversation, but somehow, Eridan doesn’t really mind. It’s her thing, this amicable silence. She’s not a talker. Eridan usually is—in fact, if this were anyone but Ar he’d be shooting off at the mouth nervously right about now—but with her, the quiet says more than he ever could with clumsy, stumbling words.

Besides, he feels like interrupting her in History class would piss her off beyond belief. A person doesn’t need to know Ar Megido at all to be able to tell that she fucking cares about this class. He’d realized it before he even knew her name.

But halfway through the class, when Diamonds is droning on about something to do with 19th century France that Eridan tuned out long ago, a neatly folded note lands on his desk. On it, his name is written in small, curling letters.

He unfolds it carefully. The only thing written on the full sheet of paper is “y0ure n0t paying attenti0n”

Eridan looks up at Aradia, bemused, but she’s watching Diamonds attentively. She doesn’t even glance at him.

“hey, i totally am,” he writes back, and tosses it into Aradia’s lap.

She takes a moment to finish copying something from the board and then casually plucks the note from her skirt, surreptitiously reading over it and smirking before scribbling out a response. It’s back on his desk with a flick of her wrist.

“then why are y0u staring at me instead 0f the teacher”

Oh, _fuck._ Think fast, Ampora, you idiot.

Quickly, he scrawls “you’vve got a fly in your hair” and then bats at her brown curls with the note before dropping it onto her desk. She shoots him a weird look, but Eridan’s too busy sighing in relief. God, he can be stupid.

She doesn’t catch on, thankfully, but Eridan consciously restrains himself from looking at her for the rest of the class. It’s hard.

*

Eridan feels bad for avoiding Kanaya after Aradia leaves him for her Art class with a wave and a perky smile, but he knows she’ll probably be brimming with questions he’s just not ready to answer yet. He makes a beeline for Precalc where he’s bored shitless for fifty minutes since Rose, of course, won’t ignore her damn academics for a fucking second, but at least he isn’t being grilled about Ar.

He’d kind of stopped driving Feferi home after that disastrous incident a couple weeks ago. It was a mutual thing—Feferi started telling him another one of her friends had offered to drive her, or Eridan would make up some excuse to avoid her. It was just too hard for him. The ride got too awkward too fast otherwise.

So he was facing another lonely ride home with only his music to keep him company, which truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to, either. The car is too big for one person alone. It feels wrong without someone else next to him in the passenger seat—too empty, too emotionless. He takes longer than he really needs to at his locker, packing each notebook and heavy text into his messenger bag with precise movements. The hallway’s empty when he’s done. His locker door makes a loud clang that echoes down the hallway when he closes it.

Eridan sets off alone, feeling very weary and sorry for himself. He hears someone arguing in the distance, but he tries to block it out, not needing one more thing to worry about.

It gets louder, though, and he recognizes both voices by the time he rounds the corner and sees them standing by a deserted locker bay.

“Just leave me alone,” Aradia seethes, her eyes burning fire.

Vriska grins maliciously. “You know that’s not how it works, Megido.”

Aradia exhales heavily. By her side, her hands are clenching and unclenching into fists.

“Listen, I know we’ve had our differences in the past—“

“ _Differences!_ ” Vriska exclaims. She coils, like a cat about to spring. “After what _you_ told Tavros about me—“

“After what you _did_ to Tavros—“

Fuck. Eridan knows Vriska, and he knows how she looks when she’s about to get physical. He is _not_ subjecting Ar to that.

“Stop it!” he yells, striding in just as Vriska reaches out and slaps Aradia across the cheek.

Aradia reels back, clutching her face where she was hit. She stumbles, and Eridan makes a split second decision.

He catches her with one arm and stumbles too from the awkward position, but at least he manages to stop Aradia from tumbling to the ground. Too late, he glances up. Vriska is watching them with an expression full of confusion, annoyance, anger and hate.

“What the _hell,_ Ampora?” she spits.

Eridan grits his teeth. “You’re gonna get suspended if you keep beatin’ people up, Vris.”

“So you take her side over mine?” shrieks Vriska. “What is she, your girlfriend?”

Aradia straightens up, fixing Vriska with an icy glare. “You’re pathetic,” she tells the other girl, her voice shockingly even.

Vriska sneers. “Like I care what you think,” she retorts. “Eridan, I didn’t know you were _thaaaaaaaat_ desperate. Don’t even bother with her! Or, on second thought—you two losers are _perfect_ for each other.”

Eridan splutters, but Vriska is stalking away already, her shoulders raised angrily. Aw, fuck. She’s gonna make his life a living hell.

“You okay?” he asks Aradia, trying to control his nerves and his voice.

She nods, though he can see the harsh red imprint of a palm on her cheek, and she’s wincing. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You’re lucky, then,” Eridan tells her. “I can’t even deal with Vris.”

She cracks a small smile, but it doesn’t make it to her eyes. “I’m used to it by now.”

Eridan takes her gently by the arm and starts leading her towards the school’s entrance. “What did she want with you, anyway? Somethin’ bout Tav… he’s the cripple, right?”

“Don’t call him that,” says Aradia, so quick it’s like a reflex. “And…well, it’s barely even about that anymore. We just hate each other. We have for as long as we’ve known each other. It started with Tavros, though.”

“What happened?” he questions.

She sighs slowly. “It’s a long story. But Vriska was being her usual terrible self—“ At this, she stops and glances up at him, looking a little worried.

“She’s not my friend,” Eridan says dismissively. “Well, she sorta is, but she’s still a bitch.”

Aradia nods. “So she was just being her regular bitchy self, and she hurt Tavros pretty badly. It’s part of the reason he’s in a wheelchair.” She says this very matter-of-factly, as if she’s recited it before and she’s desensitized to the story.

“No shit?” Eridan gasps. “God, I knew she was a piece a’ work, but nothin’ _that_ bad…”

“I don’t even know the full story,” confesses Aradia. “It all happened when we were really young.”

“Still.” They’ve walked all the way to his car, and Eridan realizes with a shock they’d stopped moving.

Aradia’s glancing from the school entrance to her phone, back and forth rapidly with a worried look on her face. “Somethin’ wrong?” asks Eridan. “Who’re you gettin’ a ride home with?”

“Sollux,” she replies, and he feels a spike of distaste. “Or at least, that’s who I’m supposed to be going with. But I guess he got held up…”

“I can drive you,” he offers casually. The suggestion feels routine by now, just like her grateful smile.

“Only if I get to pick the music,” she answers teasingly.

He lets her, of course, and he’s so surprised by her choice that he almost hits the gas instead of the brake and nearly sends them shooting into traffic. It’s a familiar disc, of course—one of his favorites, in fact. But he’d never have guessed Ar would’ve been the kind to like it, too.

“This CD? Really?” he asks over the rapid guitars.

“Hell yeah,” Aradia grins. “It’s genius.”

And then she starts singing with the chorus—actually singing, and rather loudly at that. She drums in beat to the song on her thighs and Eridan finds himself watching her more than the road.

“C’mon, join in,” she invites him as the chorus comes around again.

So he does, right on beat with the line “ _only liars, but we’re the best_.” Somehow, the song is just perfect for the moment. It’s his teenage anthem. Only fitting that he should listen to it when he feels the most like a confused, conflicted, angsty, love-struck, _happy_ teenager in all his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy summer here's your present xoxo
> 
> (song at the end is 'our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn't get sued' by fall out boy (i shit you not that's the actual title look it up) and it's a fabulous song. noticing a theme yet?)


	7. cause i don't do too well on my own

_Sitting out dances on the wall, trying to forget everything that isn’t you  
I’m not going home alone cause I don’t do too well on my own_

_-Atavan Halen (7 Minutes In Heaven)_

“So there’s this party tonight.”

Aradia collapses back onto her bed, the springs squeaking. “You know I don’t do parties, Sol.”

“This one’ll be fun,” he promises. “I swear, it’s not one of those dumb drinking ones. It’s at gz’s place at eight. You’re friends with gz, right?”

“Kind of,” she mumbles into the phone. That doesn’t do anything to reassure her—in fact, it just makes it worse. Gamzee’s known for drinking and smoking pot and all kinds of other things Aradia would rather not be involved in.

“I’ll drive you,” Sollux wheedles. “C’mon, aa. You haven’t been out in a while. It’ll be fun. And I’ll be there. We can just hang out the whole night. We don’t even have to drink if you don’t want to.”

And that’s why an hour later, Aradia finds herself studying her reflection intensely in her mirror, her stomach a ball of nerves and her common sense regretting her decision before she’d even left the house.

For the first time in a long time, she’s made an effort with her clothes, searching through her closet for something fancy, hopefully sexy and not at all casual-friendly. There’s a part of her brain that keeps telling her she has a chance with Sollux if she tries hard enough, and even though it’s small, it’s extremely vocal.

She had to go into Damara’s closet for the shirt. It’s deep red and low-cut, the sleeves dipping to bare her shoulders, which is supposedly sexy, though Aradia sees nothing sexy about her shoulders. As if she knows anything about sexy. The skirt, which is short, black and pleated, is her own, though, as are the sheer black tights underneath it. She tried high heels, but had to draw the line after falling over five times in as many minutes. Instead, she’s wearing her lucky maroon converse.

Her hair is up in a high ponytail, small wisps framing her face, and she’d tried her best on makeup despite knowing almost nothing about it. It turns out there are a lot of ways you can fuck up mascara and eyeliner. She’d gotten it right after twenty agonizing minutes, though.

 _I don’t look like myself,_ Aradia thinks, smoothing her palms down the creases in her skirt. She can barely recognize her own brown eyes staring dolefully back at her from under pounds of mascara.

But maybe that’s what she needs. It Sollux wasn’t going for the girl she was, then she needed to change something. And this is definitely a change.

Still, it feels like a betrayal to herself. Aradia realizes she’s chewed off her lip gloss from nervousness and she’s hastily smearing it across her lips again—it tastes disgusting and waxy—when a car horn blares outside her window.

 _This is it._ Aradia takes a deep, steeling breath, and dashes down the stairs.

It’s dark outside when Aradia gets into Sollux’s car, but he still does a double take when he sees her. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” he jokes.

Aradia fidgets and resists the urge to chip at her red-painted nails. “I wanted to try something new,” she says meekly.

Sollux smirks lopsidedly. “I like it. It works on you,” he decides.

Despite how uncomfortable, she feels, Aradia can’t help but smile. _It’s working._

The ride to Gamzee’s house is short and a little bit awkward. That’s Aradia’s fault, though. She’s too nervous to be able to talk normally. Instead, she replies to Sollux’s questions with quiet murmurs of affirmation.

Gamzee’s place is lit up like a Christmas tree. Aradia can spot it from a block away. The streets surrounding it are choked up with cars parked along the sidewalk on both sides and all kinds of partygoers, girls in too-tight dresses and guys in jeans and baseball caps. There have got to be at least a hundred people. His place is decently sized, but he’s got a massive front yard, and it’s already littered with beer bottles and cigarette butts.

Sollux parks the car a couple blocks away and they meld into the flow of partiers. For a panicked second, Aradia thinks she’s lost sight of him, but a hand grabs her own and she relaxes when she realizes it’s his.

He’s still holding her hand when they enter the party. Aradia’s glad he is—even more so than she normally would be—because she feels like she would faint without it. She’s completely out of her element.

The walls are literally shaking from the heavy bass in whatever loud, dance-y song is playing. Before her, the living room is a pulsating mass of people, moving and grinding and shouting and splashing beer on each other. The whole place smells like a disgusting mix of alcohol and sweat. Above that is a sickly sweet smoky smell that’s already beginning to make her feel lightheaded.

“Don’t get lost,” Sollux tells her. “Text me if we get separated, okay?”

“Okay,” Aradia says, and squeezes his hand a little tighter before following him into the throng.

_She can do this._

It’s been barely five minutes when Sollux says, “I’m gonna go get a drink. Do you want anything?”

Aradia shakes her head. She’s only drunk a little before, and only because she was curious and she knew she was safe with Sollux and Tavros. She hadn’t liked it. They hadn’t either, supposedly.

Still, Sollux is telling her to “stay put, I’ll be back in a sec. I’ll try to find you a Coke or something.”

Alright, stay put. That’s not hard. Aradia can do that.

She relaxes into her corner of the couch as Sollux fades away into the crowd. It’s not bad here, at the edge of the living room where she can watch everyone without being disturbed. It still smells like alcohol and pot, but it’s kind of interesting to just watch everyone from school make fools of themselves. They all look so different here, out of the harsh fluorescence of the classroom and wild in the dimly-lit privacy of the night. It’s like they’ve let their inhibitions go. People she’d never even seen crack a smile before are dancing away like they’re having the time of their life.

Aradia almost wishes she could become one of them. It must be nice to let yourself go and forget about image and social standing and all that, even if it’s just for a few minutes.  There’s a part of this whole high-school-party thing that’s deliciously dark and exciting. She doesn’t _like_ beer; she’d never wanted to try pot before. But it’s just this place, she guesses. It’s the atmosphere. It makes you want to do things you know you shouldn’t and that you’ll regret later.

But she won’t. Aradia’s not like that. She isn’t going to fuck up her life with one stupid night. She doesn’t care if it makes her a prude; let other people kill precious brain cells. Besides, she needs to be sober tonight so she doesn’t mess up on her intricate plan.

Which isn’t really that intricate. At this point, it consists of A. get Sollux drunk—or at least tipsy; B. get him into his car and drive him home; C. make out with him/make him realize she’s a far superior choice to Feferi/make him realize he’s totally in love with her.

At least part A should be going off without a hitch.

Sollux isn’t back yet, though, Aradia realizes, and she feels a sickeningly familiar lurch in her gut.

He’s coming back. He’s just getting drinks, and then he’s coming back, she tells herself.

But after five songs and twenty minutes of watching the crowd, Aradia finally stops lying to herself. She knows the feeling in her stomach, because she’s felt it before. It’s abandonment, pure and raw and aching.

She knows exactly fucking where Sollux is. Or at least who he’s with.

The realization crashes over her like a wave, and all of a sudden, she wants to track him down—not to fall into his arms, but to punch him, to kick and rail and scream until he realizes he _cannot_ just keep choosing Feferi over her and expect it to be okay. Because it’s _not._ Aradia is a human, too, and she cared— _cares_ —about him too, and she has feelings, and just because Feferi has bigger tits and looser lips doesn’t make her somehow _better._

She needs to find them. She needs to give them a piece of her fucking mind. She’s had enough of this.

Aradia pulls herself to her feet and elbows her way through the crowd in the direction Sollux had gone. There’s a lot of annoyed grumbling and a few slurred shouts of “hey!”, but she makes it through to the kitchen after a few claustrophobic minutes.

He’s not there, and neither is Feferi, but there are people she recognizes. Someone who looks like the younger Lalonde sister who Sollux used to date is making out with a blonde guy against one wall, and Terezi Pyrope is standing against the one opposite, sipping away at a drink and staring at nothing in particular.

There’s a massive keg sitting in the middle of the kitchen table and a red cooler filled with cans of beer on the floor next to it, but Aradia ignores them and makes a beeline for Terezi. Normally, she’d be anxious—she hadn’t talked to the girl in nearly a year—but tonight, she is a girl on a mission.

“Hey, Aradia,” Terezi says as soon as she pauses next to her.

“Hi, Terezi,” replies Aradia. “Have you seen Sollux or Feferi?”

Terezi cackles in a manner Aradia’s heard a hundred times before but still manages to unsettle her. “No, I haven’t seen either of them,” she says, and taps her glasses. “Nearly blind, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Aradia doesn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, since Terezi can’t see them anyway. “Well, do you know where they might’ve gone?”

“No idea,” answers Terezi.

“Great.” Aradia heaves an annoyed sigh, sending her wispy bangs flying off her forehead.

Terezi looks up at her—not _looks,_ Aradia corrects herself, just tilts her head—and quirks an eyebrow over the top of her red glasses. “You could ask Kanaya or Vriska,” she suggests. “I’m sure they know where Miss Fishy-Fuchsia is. Or Karkles, he knows everyone.”

None of these options seem particularly attractive to Aradia, especially not the prospect of running into Vriska again, but she says a hasty ‘thank you’ to Terezi and gets out of the kitchen as quickly as she can. She can practically feel the blind girl’s eyes on her back as she retreats. God, she is creepy.

The crowd’s gotten even thicker—if possible—than it was before. Aradia folds in on herself, trying to make herself seem as small and nonthreatening as possible, but she still feels the shoves and pushes of the rest of the teenagers. She’s really regretting dressing like she did. For the first time in her life, she’s getting actual attention from boys—but somehow, she doesn’t think the whistles and catcalls of “hey, baby” are positive. Aradia crosses her arms across her chest and glares at anyone who speaks to her.

She has no idea how to find _anyone_ at this party. She didn’t even think Kanaya or Karkat would be here; they don’t seem like the partying type. Then again, neither was she—but look at her now.

Karkat’s probably with Gamzee. Aradia doesn’t want to go anywhere near Gamzee in the state he’s probably in right now, but Kanaya’s almost definitely with Vriska, and Aradia would take a drunk and stoned Gamzee over any iteration of Vriska Serket.

She doesn’t know where Gamzee is, but she follows the flow of the crowd farther into the house, knowing she’ll find him somewhere at the heart of the party. Somewhere along the line, a red plastic cup gets pushed into her hand. She knows it’s stupid and reckless, but fuck it, she’s parched like the Sahara desert from the heat and this night couldn’t get any worse.

She takes a swig. It fizzles on her tongue, and it’s almost nice until the taste hits her. It’s disgusting, musky and sour and she wants to spit it out, but she forces herself to swallow it down. It burns her throat and doesn’t help her thirst at all. She takes another sip.

She isn’t going anywhere, but by this point, it doesn’t matter. The stuff inside the cup is gone before she knows it, and her vision is a little fuzzy, the room tilting just the slightest bit. She’s really damn thirsty.

It takes her a while to fight her way back to the kitchen, but she feels so much better when she’s got another red cup of beer from the keg clutched in her hand. A cute blonde boy poured it for her with a smile and called her “honey.” She feels warm inside.

What was she looking for again?

Oh, right. Karkat and Gamzee. Aradia takes a gulp of beer and swills it around before she swallows it. It isn’t so bad once you get used to it, she thinks. She likes the way it makes her feel, like the world is softer, fuzzier around the edges. Such a soft, comfortable place can’t be that bad.

But she’s still mad. Why is she mad?

Sollux and Feferi. That’s right. She hates both of them.

Aradia chugs her beer and tops up her cup before entering the party’s hallway bloodstream again, letting herself get carried towards wherever they’re going. She’ll drift until she finds someone she knows.

This turns out to be the right strategy, because she’s somehow deposited in front of a dark doorway. It’s nice and quiet, and she’s been getting a headache from the noise outside. This is perfect. She’ll just go sit down for a few minutes, and then go try to find someone…

The first thing she notices when she steps into the room is the sweet, smoky scent underlying the whole party is amplified tenfold in here. The second thing she notices is the furniture—a massive wide-screen TV, the screen glowing blue; the pillows scattered about the corners; and the huge set of leather couches in the middle. The third thing she notices is that she’s not alone.

There are a dozen or so people draped all over the couches, looking lazy and relaxed. They speak in slow voices, and their movements are as if they’re moving through thick water or gelatin. Gamzee Makara is sitting in the center, his wild mop of black hair sticking up above the rest of the group. He’s got something long and glowing clamped between the index and middle fingers of his right hand.

He’s the first one to notice her when he looks up. His eyes are lazy and half-lidded. “What’s up, my motherfucking sister?” he calls, a slow smile spreading across his face like melting butter, He waves his right hand as he speaks, and Aradia realizes the thing he’s holding is a joint.

She takes a couple more cautious steps in, clutching her cup of beer like it’s a life preserver. Didn’t she need to find Gamzee? Some part of her brain is telling her that she did, but she doesn’t know why.

Maybe if she waits around a bit, she’ll remember.

“Hi, Gamzee,” she calls back, though her words come out sounding weird, more like “Hi, Gamshee.”

He laughs. It’s a low, full and mellow sound, and just hearing it makes her feel more relaxed. “Come to join the motherfucking group?” he asks. “Sister, this is where the real motherfucking party’s at.”

“Why?” she asks stupidly.

Gamzee gestures her over with big, sweeping gestures, and then she’s sitting next to him on the couch, his arm wrapped tight around her and his lazy grin in her face. Aradia’s mind registers the strangest details: his teeth are very white; his hoodie feels rough against her bare arm; there are red blood vessels standing out starkly against the blank white of his eyes.

“We’ve got the good shit.” He whispers it like it’s some big secret, but loud enough that the rest of the room hears it and collapses into hysterical giggles. Gamzee waves the joint in front of her face.

“Cloud nine, sister. Forget all your motherfucking troubles.”

“That sounds nice,” Aradia says dreamily.

He passes her the joint, one eyebrow quirked. It’s an invitation, but it’s also a challenge.

She lifts it to her lips.

The heavy smoke fills her mouth on the first inhale. She holds it in, but it tickles the back of her throat uncomfortably, and she ends up choking it back out in a puff. It draws a chorus of laughs from the rest of the stoners, and Gamzee pats her back. “You’ll get used to it, sister. Don’t motherfucking worry your pretty little head.”

He takes the joint back and takes a puff himself, and Aradia watches the way he holds the smoke for a few moments before exhaling slowly, letting it blossom back out of his mouth in a cloud. His eyes slide closed.

“Best motherfucking thing in the world,” he murmurs.

Aradia is beginning to feel very lightheaded. The room looks like it’s fading: everyone’s glowing blue, blue like the TV, and her hands are shining in her own lap. Everything takes on a wavy quality. When Gamzee smiles, it’s crooked, his face lopsided and looking like it’s melting.

For some reason, it’s the funniest thing Aradia’s ever seen, and she bursts out laughing. A few of the people look confused, but eventually they join in, and she feels loose, happy, relaxed.

She leans her head on Gamzee’s shoulder and smells the pot smoke and lets the world shift and drift around in front of her, a tranquil smile sliding across her face. It’s so nice here, she thinks. So quiet. So safe.

Gamzee passes the joint back to her, and this time when she takes a hit, she doesn’t choke. She lets the smoke out slow and controlled. Gamzee gives her a proud, drooping smile.

“Now you’re getting the hang of it, sister,” he tells her. Aradia beams.

Time passes strangely in the dark room, in sudden bursts and long, slow minutes, like pausing a movie and then fast-forwarding. Sometimes Aradia thinks she’s been in that room for hours, sharing the joint with Gamzee, and other times it feels like it’s been only minutes. She only knows that time’s passed, because the blunt burns down and Gamzee has to roll another one.

Despite his otherwise slow, languid movements, his fingers are nimble and dexterous as he places a pinch of weed in the center of the square of white paper and rolls it into a fat cigar. He holds his hand out and someone tosses him a lighter.

Aradia glances out while he lights it and looks around at the rest of the circle for the first time. Gamzee’s clan is made up of about half girls and half boys, all smoking joints or sipping from bottles of hard liquor dangled from loose fists. They’re draped over the furniture as if they’re all asleep or dead.

Except for the boy across the circle from Aradia. He sits up, his back ramrod straight and his eyes bright and focused. He’s got a joint too, but she hasn’t seen him smoke it all night. She recognizes him from somewhere—maybe because he resembles Gamzee so closely, with his wild tangle of black hair and deep purple eyes and tall, lean structure. He definitely doesn’t go to her school; he looks much older, maybe even in his twenties.

Those purple eyes unnerve Aradia somewhere deep inside her, but they’re also compelling. She wants to know his name.

Gamzee offers her the joint, but she shakes her head. “You keep it,” she mumbles.

“Whatever you say, sis,” he replies amicably and takes a hit himself.

The man across the circle looks back at her. His eyes are calling to her, even though he never says a word; in fact, he’s got strange tattoos—or maybe scarring—around his mouth, almost like stitches. Maybe he can’t talk. It doesn’t matter. His eyes say everything.

Aradia knows there’s beer and vodka and pot clouding her mind as she watches him stand, but her vision seems strangely clear. There’s no other decision than to follow him out the door.

From that moment on, the world takes on a strange, purplish hue, and she can’t remember anything very well. There’s a dark hallway, the man’s hand in her own as he leads her down into the dark recesses of the house. She has the strange sensation that the body she’s in is somehow not her own. And she can’t process any thoughts past the next few moments; can’t figure out where they’re going or what will come next, though it doesn’t faze her.

They end up in a dark corner of a faraway hallway where she can’t see anything but his glowing purple eyes. She fades out, and a moment later she’s pressed against the wall, her wrists held down in his hands and his lips on hers’.

 He’s moving too fast for her to keep up—his tongue is suddenly in her mouth, and his hands have rucked up the bottom of her shirt so his palms are flat and cold against the flushed skin of her stomach. The only other guy who’s ever kissed her is Equius, and he was shy and gentle and in all four months of them dating he barely worked up the nerve to hold her hand in public. But this man—she doesn’t even know his name—he’s rough and controlling, holding her wrists down while he slips a hand under her shirt, grazing the fabric of her bra.

She wants to tell him to stop, to pull his hand away, but she’s not even sure if this is really happening. It all seems so unreal. So unlike her. Aradia Megido wouldn’t do this; Aradia Megido is a good girl.

She can only come to the conclusion that the person in possession of her body is no longer Aradia Megido.

It’s dark and silent here. There are other people that stumble by infrequently, but they think nothing of the couple making out on the wall, and Aradia in turn can barely focus on them. Her attention is tangled up in the stranger’s mouth and what his hands are doing under her shirt.

She’s scared and fearless and drunk and she thinks she might pass out or vomit and God, oh God is she going to regret this, does she _already_ regret it, but she can’t pull away, can’t get his big hands off her body or his mouth off of hers.

She isn’t fearless. She’s a stupid little girl.

And then there’s a familiar voice right in her ear. It’s yelling “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing” in a well-known, wavy accent, and the man is gone, he’s flung back against the other wall looking stunned, and Eridan’s looping his arm around her shoulders.

“Ar, what are you doing?” he asks again. He sounds distant, like his words are coming from the end of a tunnel.

Aradia tugs at the bottom of her shirt and tries to get it to cover her stomach again. The man is staring at her, his purple eyes cold and calculating. That’s why he looked so much like Gamzee--it’s Kurloz Makara. Thick, sour revulsion rises in her throat. She wants to scrub her mouth and her body clean until there is no evidence that he ever touched her.

Eridan is half-dragging her away, fighting his way through the thick crowds of people with elbows and sharp words. He’s got his arm around her protectively. Aradia’s mind is still reeling, a part of it left behind in the dark den with Gamzee, a part of it in the hallway with Kurloz. It takes all her effort to concentrate on Eridan’s words.

“You’re completely shitfaced,” he says. “How the fuck did that happen? Who let you get like this, Ar?”

“Came with Sol,” she mutters, which in retrospect probably wasn’t a very smart thing to say. Eridan’s face turns purple with rage.

“He fucked off with Fef, didn’t he?” he exclaims. “God, the fuckin’ _nerve_ of that fuckin’ douche, I swear—“

“Shh,” Aradia says, wincing. His shouting is hurting her head.

The cold night air clears her mind once he gets her out of the house. The thumping bass music fades away behind them as Eridan leads her away from the house, half-carrying her as she trips all over herself.

“Jesus, you get drunk easy,” he mutters.

She shakes her head. “Not just drunk. I had…” She knows the word, it’s on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t say it. Instead, she mimics blowing a puff of smoke at him.

Eridan reels back, waving his hand in front of his face. “Fuck, that’s some strong shit. Was that Gamzee’s fault?”

She nods.

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “ ’A course.”

Eridan bundles Aradia into his car after a couple failed tries. It’s warm and quiet in there, the music muted enough that her head calms a little. “We’ve gotta get you home,” he mutters, almost to himself.

“Mhm,” Aradia answers dazedly. “Home is good.”

“Oh my fuckin’ god, you’re so out of it,” says Eridan, though it sounds like there’s a laugh mixed somewhere into the words.

She can’t really remember the car ride, only that somehow, they end up in front of her house, and Eridan opens her door and helps her to her front door and asks her where her key is. Then they’re inside, and Aradia stops.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” Eridan coaxes.

Aradia hears it wrong at first, and the thought of Eridan asking her to go to bed with him strikes her as unbearably funny. She feels the giggle crash over her like a wave while he stares at her disapprovingly.

“Come on, Ar, you idiot,” he says, and tugs her up the stairs.

She stumbles over most of the steps, her limbs feeling heavy like they’re filled with sand. Eridan has to catch her twice, his hands warm on her waist. “Where are your parents anyway?” he grunts the second time he stops her from tumbling. “You’re gonna wake them up with all this fuckin’ commotion.”

Aradia laughs bitterly. “Gone.”

“Both of them?”

“My dad’s gone forever. Mom is…somewhere. She’s not coming home soon.”

“What about your sister?” he asks a bit desperately.

She snorts. “Dam? Fucking some guy in an alley.”

As soon as she gets to her room, she collapses onto her bed, not even bothering to kick off her Converse before drawing her blanket over herself and snuggling down into it.

“Okay, good,” Eridan says, looking relieved. “Just sleep it off, Ar. You’re probably gonna wake up with a huge fuckin’ hangover, but coffee helps, an’ take some Tylenol or Advil, an’ you might puke so don’t eat anything and—“

“Eridan,” groans Aradia. “Shut up.”

She thinks he’s probably blushing pink, but she can’t see him well in the dark, only his outline. “Okay,” he says. “Alright. I’ll just…go, then. Sleep well, Ar.”

 _Go?_ “Go where?”

The outline of his shoulders shrugs. “Home, I guess.”

“No,” she says.

“What do you mean, no?”

“Don’t leave,” she slurs. It’s the last, barely-coherent thing she can eke out before she slips away into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was really painful to write and i hope it wasn't as painful to read.


	8. i'd burn this city down to show you the light

_Take her tears, put ‘em on ice  
‘Cause I swear I’d burn this city down to show you the light_

_\--Sophomore Slump Or Album Comeback of the Year_

“Don’t leave,” murmurs Aradia.

Eridan stares down at her, dumbfounded. “What?” he asks again, but she’s fallen asleep, her eyelids fluttering and small breaths escaping between her parted lips.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Aradia looks peaceful in sleep, and he sure as hell isn’t going to wake her up now when it was so hard to get her in bed. She shouldn’t have been drinking, he thinks. She shouldn’t even have been at that party.

He really can’t justify his reaction when he saw her with Kurloz. Aradia’s her own person; she can make her own decisions. But in that moment, Eridan wasn’t thinking straight. He was angry, and confused, and as much as he hates to admit it more than a little jealous. But most of all, he felt worried for her. He couldn’t stand the thought of Kurloz—or anyone—hurting her.

And he still feels that way, he thinks absently as he watches her chest rise and fall under the covers. She’s too kind to be so broken. She’s already gone through enough with Sol and Fef. The poor girl doesn’t need another reason to hate the world.

Eridan sighs and pulls her comforter up to her chin and smoothes loose hair from around her eyes. She’s going to have a killer hangover tomorrow. Fuck, this is probably the first time she’s ever been drunk; she won’t have any idea what to do.

He snatches a pen and paper from her desk and begins to list everything he knows about things to help the morning after: drink coffee; take an Advil or Tylenol but not aspirin because it only makes the headache worse; don’t eat anything until you’re sure you’ve puked up everything; don’t listen to anything loud; definitely don’t try running or anything stupid like that cause you’ll get faint—

He drops the paper and watches it flutter to the wooden floor. Aradia’s probably not going to be able to concentrate enough through the headache to take the advice of a written note, and besides, his handwriting’s probably illegible. There isn’t going to be anyone to take care of her, if her parents and Damara are gone; even he had Cronus after his first party, at least. She’ll have no one.

There’s a crazy, ridiculous thought at the back of his mind, but he tries to ignore it, push it down, because it really is stupid.

But he can’t help but think.

If the house is going to stay empty, then nobody would care if he stayed there overnight, would they?

He wouldn’t sleep upstairs, of course. He’ll take the couch or something. But Aradia’s going to need someone when she wakes up tomorrow; he knows from experience. And Cronus and his dad aren’t going to notice if he’s gone; hell, they’re probably expecting him to get drunk and pass out in a random bedroom at Gamzee’s.

Aradia’s still sleeping peacefully, and Eridan feels a sudden need to _protect,_ to try and help her in any way he can. It’s a strange and kind of uncomfortable thing to feel. He’s not a protective person; he’ll admit that most of the time he doesn’t care about anyone but himself. But he fucking cares about Ar.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he whispers. She just sleeps on.

*

The Megidos have a ratty couch downstairs in front of their old TV set. Everything in their house looks kind of worn, in fact, from their dusty curtains to their torn, faded rug. The couch is lumpy and Eridan’s legs keep slipping off the edge, but he’s tired and buzzed and he can feel his own headache coming on, so he’ll have to make do.

He hunts down a blanket from an empty-looking bedroom. It smells like smoke and alcohol, but it looks clean, and Eridan doesn’t want to sneak around Aradia’s house any more in the dark. It creeps him out.

He strips down to his boxers and t-shirt so his jacket won’t get wrinkled and the buttons on his jeans won’t dig into his legs and pulls the blanket around him, trying to find a comfortable spot on the couch. It’s hard to fall asleep. He’s cold and anxious and keyed up and really damn uncomfortable, and keeps wondering about Aradia, about if she’s still asleep, about if anything else happened to her at the party, about if she wants him here, about if she considers him a friend too.

It’s only when he’s finally drifting off into oblivion that he realizes he hasn’t thought of Feferi once all night.

*

Eridan wakes up to the sound of someone cursing and a loud thud. He rubs his eyes blearily and sits up. Aradia’s crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, holding her head in both hands.

She looks up at him, opens her mouth, and shrieks.

“Jesus Christ, Ar! It’s just me!” Eridan exclaims. He stands up quickly, rushing over to help her, before realizing that he’s still only wearing his boxers and t-shirt.

Aradia bites her lip and blinks. “Eridan?”

“Mornin’,” he says.

Aradia clambers to her feet. She’s not wearing her outfit from the night before; instead, she’s changed into a black tank top and plaid flannel pajama pants. Her hair is tied up messily on top of her head.

“What are you _doing_ here?” she asks.

“I wanted to make sure you’d be okay,” replies Eridan stupidly. It sounds so fragile and illogical now, when it seemed so important to him the night before. “You’ve gotta have a major hangover right now, right? An’ you weren’t handlin’ stuff too well last night and I just thought you might—“

Aradia winces and clutches her head. “Could you tone it down?” she mutters. “Sorry, I’ve got a really bad headache.”

“Oh, shit. C’mon.”

Without thinking, he grabs her hand and pulls her toward the kitchen, forgetting about his former embarrassment. “We’ve gotta get you coffee,” he tells her. “It helps, believe me.”

“Okay,” she says weakly.

Aradia sits at the kitchen table, her head lying on her arms, as Eridan turns on the percolator and fills the machine with water. In a matter of seconds, the steady _drip, drip_ of coffee into the pot begins, a steady, comforting rhythm.

“Do you have Advil or Tylenol or anythin’?” he asks, and Aradia gestures at some cabinet or another wordlessly.

She perks up, though, when Eridan places a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. “I didn’t know whether you wanted milk or sugar or anythin’,” he says apologetically.

Aradia wraps her hands around the mug and takes a huge gulp. It’s probably scalding, but she doesn’t seem to care. “It’s perfect,” she tells him.

“It helps with the headache,” says Eridan.

She smiles. “So you’ve said.”

He takes a sip of his own coffee while Aradia swirls a spoon around in hers’, watching the dark liquid. “What happened last night?” she asks finally. “I don’t remember all of it. I think…I drank something I shouldn’t have, and I spent some time hanging out with Gamzee, and then I…”

Her face turns red, and she drops her head into her hands. “Fuck,” she mumbles, the word muffled by her palms. “Please, _please_ tell me that didn’t really happen.”

“What, the part where you were making out with Kurloz Makara?”

In retrospect, he might have said that a little too harshly. Aradia hunches her shoulders. “Oh, fuck. _Fuck._ ”

He wants to reach out and comfort her somehow, but he doesn’t know how she’ll react. Tentatively, he lays a hand on her shoulder, trying not to frighten her.

“I’m so stupid,” she mutters. “God, I am such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” says Eridan helplessly.

Aradia lifts her head to look up at him. She doesn’t look angry, or sad, or even regretful. She just looks…tired.

“From what I remember, I got ditched by my best friend after making a ridiculous attempt to seduce him,” she enunciates clearly. “Then I got drunk, high off my ass and felt up by a guy I’ve never talked to in my life.”

When she puts it like that, Eridan has no idea how to make it sound any better.

“And you’re the only one who had the decency to save me,” she says softly.

“I didn’t save you,” Eridan says. It’s the first thing he can think of.

She takes another sip of her coffee. “You did, though. This morning, and last night, and maybe even for a while before that.”

Her big, brown eyes are staring up at him dolefully, eyelashes fluttering, and he just wants to fall into them and never have to look away.

“Thank you, Eridan,” she says seriously, putting her hand on his arm.

Eridan nods. There’s a huge lump in his throat.

Aradia suddenly smiles at him, a gorgeous, gleaming grin that immediately breaks the somber mood. “You’re right,” she says, her voice returning to its’ usual casual, teasing tone. “Coffee _does_ help the hangover a lot.”

“Told you,” he answers, and she laughs and just like that they’re back to normal.

He has the strangest thought while he’s sitting there, drinking coffee with Aradia in his boxers and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. What he thinks is that this could be the beginning of a million mornings exactly like this. He can see them sitting at this table, hands wrapped around stained mugs, morning after morning. He can see them a little bit older, in a small apartment somewhere, Aradia baggy-eyed from studying all night as she chugs coffee. He can see them in a country kitchen in a house with a big green yard, their faces a little more lined, as he reads the newspaper and she does the crossword. And it’s crazy—it’s like a whole future with this girl is flashing before his eyes.

He opens his mouth to tell her, but then he hesitates, and she tells him he looks dumb with his mouth hanging open like that, and they both laugh, and the moment is gone.

*

Eridan stays there all day with Aradia. They drink coffee and listen to Weezer and Green Day and argue about which albums are better and watch adventure movies and Aradia grabs Eridan’s arm at the scary parts. They order pizza and answer the door in their pajamas and when the delivery boy gives them a weird look they crack up and then Aradia gives Eridan all her pepperoni because she thinks it’s disgusting. And they lay on the couch together, heads at either end and legs tangled together, and just _talk._

“So how’d you meet Feferi?” asks Aradia. Her right foot is hanging off the side of the couch, her big toe making lazy circles two inches above the floor.

Eridan sighs and pillows his arms behind his head. “I was seven, I think, and it was my first day in this elementary school. I was fuckin’ terrified ‘cause I knew absolutely no one—I’d only been there like a week, and I was comin’ from the Big Apple itself, which didn’t help, y’know? And I’m standin’ all alone on the playground, mopin’ and feelin’ sorry for myself, when this pretty little thing comes runnin’ up and asks me what my name is.”

“That’s cute,” Aradia murmurs.

He nods. “Yeah. Too bad it’s over now.”

“What do you mean?”

She looks legitimately worried for him. Eridan's heart surges with affection.

“Just, y’know, shit’s been weird between us since I told her about—about y’know. We’re kinda ignorin’ each other without meanin’ to, and it sucks. It really does.”

To his shock and embarrassment, he realizes he’s on the verge of tears. Aradia’s watching him with sadness and sympathy, and she nudges his knee with her toe. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “You can tell me. Let it out.”

Eridan works on evening out his breaths while she makes comforting circles on his shin with her toe.

“It’s like that with Sollux, too,” she confides. “Ever since he and Feferi started dating, we’ve been growing apart. It’s like he always ends up choosing her over me.”

 _That’s_ exactly _what it is,_ Eridan wants to tell her. But he’s been there, too, and he knows that when you’re this far gone in love you’re not going to listen to anyone who tries to convince you they’re anything but perfect.

So all he says is “I’m sorry, Ar,” and she smiles at him a little sadly and says “Thank you.”

Later, he asks “So where are your parents, anyway? Are they ever home?”

“Barely,” she answers with a rueful smile. “My dad walked out before I was born. Damara can’t even remember him, and my mother won’t talk about him at all. She’s home about two or three times a month, and other than that, we’re left to fend for ourselves.”

“Jesus,” mutters Eridan.  “Fuck. That’s terrible. You guys must be really close, then.”

She rolls her eyes. “Close with Damara? I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before. She’s too busy sleeping around with random guys. I hope you never have to meet her, she’s a bitch.”

“Sounds like her an’ Cro would make great friends,” he mutters.

“Oh, yes. Cronus.” Aradia shudders. “He’s stopped coming to the diner, you know. Did you say something?”

“Thank fuck.” He lets out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, after that first night at the diner, I told him to go find himself another fake fuckin’ 50s place and to stop creepin’ on you.”

“Really?” She grins. “That’s sweet.”

He nods. “It’s common fuckin’ courtesy. You shouldn’t have to put up with that douche.”

Eridan still isn’t completely sure why he did it. At that point, Aradia was no more than an anomaly, a one-night thing that fascinated him for a couple hours. Still, he’d felt the need to make sure Cronus stopped annoying her.

“Well, it worked,” she tells him. “I owe you. For a lot of things, apparently.”

“Common fuckin’ courtesy,” he repeats.

“Then you’re a gentleman. There aren't many of those still around these days.”

They’re mostly quiet after that. Aradia puts on another CD, and they lie on the couch together, legs pressed together and eyes staring up at the ceiling. It’s incredibly relaxing. Eridan had no idea that just the presence of another person could make it so much easier to calm down. Or maybe it’s just Aradia. There’s something about her that just amplifies his emotions—anger, worry, protectiveness, affection, peace.

“Ar?” he whispers, but she doesn’t respond. When he sits up, he sees her eyes are closed again. Her face is lit by the light of the sunset streaming in through the window, painting her pale skin in reds and purples and oranges that make her seem otherworldly. Her chest rises and falls slowly in a steady rhythm.

Eridan pulls a blanket over her body and presses his lips to her forehead.

*

He leaves her sleeping there, a cup of coffee and two Advil next to the couch for when she wakes up. He feels…strange. Calm. It’s the most at peace he’s felt with the world in a long time, and he thinks that this is what it takes to be truly happy—someone who accepts you, no matter what.

His phone buzzes with a text when he’s pulling into his driveway. He wonders if Aradia’s woken up already; but it’s just Feferi’s name flashing on the screen.

_ \--ERIDAN! Were you at the party last night? I looked, but I didn’t see you 38(      sent at 7:23 PM _

Feferi had been at the party, too? Eridan hadn’t even really thought to look for her. He’s kind of avoiding her, if he has to admit it.

_ yeah i wwas there for a little wwhile but i left kinda early               sent at 7:25 PM _

_ Aw, I’m sorry I missed you! 38/ It was a GR---EAT party, don’t you think? Gamzee has the B--EST ones! sent at 7:26 PM _

Usually, Eridan would be excited and nervous and happy to be talking to her, but today, he just feels tired. She’s too excitable for him right now; he can’t keep up with all her energy.

_ it wwas pretty good i guess         sent at 7:28 PM _

_ 38O –Eridan, is something WRONG? You’re acting all weird and grouchy >8/       sent at 7:31 PM _

_ nah i’m fine don’t wworry about me i’m just tired            sent at 7:32 PM _

_ Are you SUR---E? I can’t help it! I’m your friend, of COURS--E I’m worried about you…    sent at 7:34 PM _

It’s so weird, Eridan thinks as he unlocks the door and turns on the kitchen lights. Months ago, that one word— _friend_ —would have killed him. But it doesn’t even matter to him anymore. They’re friends, and that’s it.

 _i just brought a friend home early and i’m still kinda hungover. i probably just need some sleep_ _sent at 7:36 PM_

_ If you’re SUR----E…         sent at 7:37 PM _

_ i’ll be fine fef seriously. i’ll see you on Monday    sent at 7:39 PM _

The phone buzzes again as soon as he slides it back into his pocket, but he ignores it when he hears footsteps on the wooden stairs. A moment later, Cronus appears, wearing a stained t-shirt with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Hey, bro,” he says. Eridan rolls his eyes. “Where were you all night?”

“Out,” mumbles Eridan.

Cronus waggles his eyebrows. “Partyin’ an’ makin’ trouble like usual? Did ya score?”

“None a’ your business,” Eridan grumbles. He tries to push past Cronus, but his older brother doesn’t budge.

“C’mon, little bro. You gotta tell old Cro.”

“I don’t have to fuckin’ tell you anything.” He spins around and shoves Cronus away, his hands balled into loose fists. “Stop bein’ such a pig! I was out with a friend, okay? I took her home after the party an’ I slept over but she’s _just my friend,_ so don’t get any ideas, you sick fuckin’ bastard.”

Cronus’s mouth is hanging open in shock, but Eridan honestly doesn’t care. He leaves his brother there looking like an idiot and retreats to the safety of his bedroom.

He turns on a loud CD and collapses onto his bed, throwing a hand over his eyes to block out the last of the sunlight streaming through his window. His mind is racing too fast for him to process his thoughts. Now that there’s distance between him and Aradia, he’s finally got time to evaluate what’s happening between them. _To_ them—to _him._

He never felt like that with Feferi, or Kanaya or Dave or any of his other friends—that safe, that peaceful, that content. Maybe it’s because he’d never had a friend like Aradia before. But at the same time, he’s remembering how he reacted to her and Kurloz the night before—the anger, the fear, the jealousy. Jealousy isn’t something you feel when you see your friend kissing another guy. Curiosity, maybe, and some worry for their well-being. But that first, base reaction had definitely been jealousy. Eridan recognizes it for what it is. He’s had more than enough experience with jealousy in his life.

And then there’s the fact that he’s thinking of Aradia more than even Feferi these days. When he’d gotten to the party the night before, he’d wondered if Aradia was there, not Feferi. And he looked for Aradia, not Feferi, and when he found her, he didn’t think about anyone but Aradia for the rest of the night. That never happened before. Feferi is almost always on the forefront of his mind.

And now, worst of all, he _misses_ her. Not just a little—not in the “oh, it’d be nice if she were here, I wonder if she’d like this CD” way. No, in the way where there’s a strange, dull ache in his chest that he’s always associated with Fef. In the way where he wants to wrap his arms around her and bury his nose in her hair and feel the pulse in her wrist fluttering against the back of his neck.

This is craziness. He refuses to label it, because if he does, it would be admitting the inevitable, and it’s not something he’s ready to do yet. Not so soon after Fef, and especially not with _her._

He tries to stop thinking about it. He really does. He does a half-assed job of his Physics homework and tools around on the internet and even tries to read a book. But he feels too tense, too keyed-up to concentrate on anything for a long period of time. He’s almost thankful for another distraction when his computer dings with an incoming message.

There’s a message on Pesterchum waiting for him, and when he sees the familiar red hue of the text, his heart beat starts pounding just that much faster.

**\--** ** apocalypseArisen ** **[AA]** **began pestering** ** caligulasAquarium [CA] ** **at 17:28 PM –**

** AA: hell0 eridan **

** AA: are y0u 0n **

** AA: y0u left with0ut saying g00dbye and i didnt get a chance t0 say thank y0u **

** AA: s0 0nce again **

** AA: thank y0u f0r everything last night and t0day **

** AA: im very indebted t0 y0u **

** AA: i just **

** AA: eridan i **

** AA: are y0u 0n **

** CA: oh hey ar sorry i didn’t see you wwere pesterin me **

Which is a total lie, of course. Eridan had been sitting there with bated breath, watching the stream of red text grow longer and longer.

** AA: 0h g00d **

** AA: im feeling much better n0w **

** AA: im s0rry f0r falling asleep like that **

** CA: it’s no big deal really you wwere tired it’s totally understandable **

** AA: it was very rude 0f me **

** AA: but t0day was really fun **

** AA: id like t0 hang 0ut with y0u again s0metime **

** CA: hey it wwas fun for me too ar seriously **

** CA: you’re a great gal an you’vve got nigh impeccable taste in music **

** CA: an i just **

Eridan stops typing, his fingers hovering over the keys uselessly. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say—it’s something you can’t just put in words; not without screwing it up terribly. He stops typing and drops his head into his hands.

** AA: y0u just what **

** AA: eridan? **

She’s using punctuation. She never uses punctuation. Why has he noticed that?

** CA: nothin just forget it **

** CA: i’m still kinda tired an i feel pretty shitty right noww **

** AA: 0h 0kay im sorry ill let y0u get s0me sleep **

** AA: feel better eridan **

Shit, she’s going to log off. _Shit._ He doesn’t want her to go—not yet.

** CA: ar wwait **

** CA: you’re gonna be okay right? **

** AA: ill be fine eridan d0nt w0rry ab0ut me **

** AA: but thank y0u f0r y0ur c0ncern 0u0 **

** AA: that l00ks stupid **

** CA: that looks stupid **

Oh, god. His heart is fucking fluttering in his chest. There’s something rising in his throat, but not like vomit—something warm and thick and new and familiar and overwhelming and _no._ He tries to push it back down, because no, he is not going to go through this again, not her, not now, not ever.

** CA: ar i havve to go i’m sorry **

** AA: alright **

** AA: ill see y0u s00n th0ugh **

** AA: and ill miss y0u **

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

** CA: i’ll miss you too **

** CA: take care a yourself for me ar **

** AA: i will i pr0mise **

** AA: y0u d0 t00 **

**\--** ** apocalypseArisen ** **[AA]** **ceased pestering** ** caligulasAquarium [CA] ** **at 17:45 PM –**

_Jesus fucking Christ,_ what is _wrong_ with him? Because he can feel it happening again—already happened, if he’s willing to admit it—and he can’t believe he’s so stupid that he’s just letting the worst part of his history repeat itself.  God, he’s going to fuck up the only thing good to come out of the fucking mess that’s become his life in the past few months.

He’s trying his hardest to deny it, to suppress it, to push it back down to whatever deep, dark part of him it’s stemmed from, but it just rises back up with that stupid fucking flutter in his chest and all he can see are here eyes, floating behind his eyelids, brown and beckoning and beautiful.

And he cannot keep lying to himself like this. He is falling in fucking love with Aradia Megido.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taking a month-long hiatus because i'll be overseas, sorry. next update will be mid-august. in the meantime, enjoy your summer :)


	9. do it for the scars and stories

_Strike just like matches, cause everyone deserves the flames—  
We only do it for the scars and stories, not the fame_

_-Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends_

Aradia spends a long time staring out her window and trying to fall asleep that night. There’s a sliver-thin crescent moon hanging in the navy sky, and it’s studded with bright diamond stars that hurt her eyes if she stares for too long.

As hard as she tries, she can’t force her eyes to close. It must be because she slept so much that day; the coffee and Advil _had_ helped, but she still had a pounding headache all day that only went away when she fell asleep. But she wouldn’t have given it up for anything—the time she spent with Eridan was worth it.

 _Eridan_. His face flashes behind her eyelids—warm eyes, long nose, blond hair, strong cheekbones—and she nearly reaches out as if he really was next to her.

She misses him.

It’s strange. Old Aradia, the Aradia who loved Sollux helplessly, would have hated him. _Did_ hate him. But now she can’t remember why. He’d never done anything to her; and now he’s more than just a good friend. He’s the kind of friend who would rescue her from a party, who would stay with her while she rides out her first hangover and watch shitty movies with her and laugh with her and listen to her and confide in her. It’s like he’s taken Sollux’s place, but there’s no pain attached, only a warm, subtle glow.

And Sollux—

She isn’t going to think about Sollux. Not now.

She knows she’ll have to eventually, when he comes to pick her up for school, full of unfamiliar, bubbly happiness. But this time, she’s not sure if she can forgive him.

*

Monday morning dawns before she’s ready for it. She gets ready with a heavy heart and keyed-up nerves.

Sollux is waiting outside at seven on the dot, just like he always is, but Aradia takes a significantly longer time putting on her jacket and hitching her schoolbag onto her shoulder and drinking her coffee. She doesn’t want to face him. Everything between them has already been fucked up, as far as she’s concerned, and she’s not sure how to fix it, or if she even wants to try.

Finally, she shuffles out, her legs feeling heavy like they were filled with lead overnight. The grass is shimmering pale with frost—the first one of the season.

Sollux is drumming his fingers impatiently on the wheel like he does when he’s irritated when Aradia gets in the car. She makes no effort to greet him.

“Hey,” he says, turning to her. His normal half-smile is in place. “You’re kind of late. What happened?”

“Nothing,” mutters Aradia. She places her hands in her lap and doesn’t look up.

He doesn’t start the engine. “aa, is something wrong?” he asks.

“Just drive,” she answers, gritting her teeth.

He doesn’t ask, and a moment later, she feels the car moving.

“Seriously, though,” he says at the end of their street. “Are you mad at me? What did I do?”

 _What did you_ do? she wants to scream. _God, what did you do, as if you don’t know!_

“Nothing,” she spits.

He sighs. She doesn’t look at him.

“That’s bullshit, aa, and we both know it.”

“Yeah, it is bullshit,” she finally lashes out, her eyes shooting to his face. “It is. I’ve got a perfectly good reason for being mad.”

“Then what is it?” he asks impatiently.

She can feel her temper boiling over inside her stomach, rising up to fill her throat, her mouth, until she can’t hold it in anymore. “That stupid goddamn party!” she yells, finally turning to look at him. His hands are squeezing the wheel so tight that his knuckles are turning white. “The one where you said ‘We can just hang out all night?’ ‘Text me if we get separated?’ ‘I’ll be back in just a second?’ You _promised,_ Sollux! You said you wouldn’t leave me alone!”

He’s silent. Somehow, this just makes her even more angry.

“So where were you all night?” she shouts.

Of course she knows what he’s going to say before the words “with Feferi” are even formed on his tongue.

“With Feferi,” she repeats sarcastically. “Of course. I forgot, your girlfriend of two weeks is obviously more important than your best friend of twelve years. I forgot that it’s perfectly okay to ditch your best friend at a party she never wanted to go to in the first place so you can go make out with _Feferi._ ”

“I’m sorry, alright?” he bursts out. “I’m sorry, aa. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“That’s not enough!” screams Aradia. “Do you even know what happened to me? Did you ever stop to wonder how I was? Because I was getting drunk and high and felt up by Kurloz Makara, because I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never been to a party before, Sollux! And while you were getting it on with Feferi, I was destroying my life!”

The car’s going too fast. She wants to yell at him to stop, but he’s shrieking right back. “I said that I’m sorry!” he roars. “Is that what you wanted, aa? I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were too helpless to spend one night alone.”

Aradia reels back as if he hit her. The words drain out of her mouth, dripping back down her throat slowly, and all she can do is stare at this boy who she thought was her friend.

She swallows. “Fine,” she says quietly. “I get it. You pick her over me.”

Sollux looks shell shocked, horrified at his own words, and he’s reaching out for her—to uselessly apologize again, most likely—but Aradia can’t spend one more second in that car with him. The moment they roll to a stop in the parking lot, she is jerking the door open and grabbing her bag and running across the parking lot, running away from his anguished cries before she bursts into tears.

*

She doesn’t look at him once in Chemistry. He’s sitting in his regular seat, but she takes the empty one in the back corner and lets her hair swing over her shoulder to form a curtain shielding her from the rest of the world.

In gym, she hides under the bleachers so she doesn’t have to look at Feferi. She can still hear her voice, though, and it sends spikes of anger and resentment shooting down her spine.

It takes all her willpower not to run to the nurse’s office and feign sickness so she can lie down on a little plastic cot and not have to face Sollux for the rest of the morning. She won’t screw up her academics because of him, though—she’s stronger than that, she tells herself. She can make it through. Skipping class is a serious thing, and she’s not going to let him see how broken up and angry she is over him. That’d just be letting him win, and Aradia’s learned her lesson. She’s not going to forgive Sollux this time. She won’t do that to herself.

But by lunch, she’s a wreck.

He’d backed off by English after bothering her all through French, sitting there apologizing and arguing and pleading while Aradia stared at her paper hard enough to burn holes with her gaze. During precalc, he’d sat with Feferi and ignored her. This pissed Aradia off even more, but at the same time, she was savagely glad.

She rushed out of precalc as quickly as she could, but her locker was jammed, and so now she was late to lunch and standing in the middle of the cafeteria like a deer in the headlights, watching Sollux sit down at her lunch table next to the seat she was expected to take.

She can’t do it.

Aradia turns abruptly on her heel and breaks her gaze, trying her best to ignore the questioning stares of Tavros and Nepeta. She has to get out of here before they come over and try to talk to her. But she can’t be alone; she has to talk to _someone_ who will understand.

That’s why she catches Eridan by the arm as soon as she comes out of the lunch line.

He turns to her with a confused but happy expression. “Oh, hey, Ar. What’s up? How was your weekend?”

“Do you want to eat outside with me today?” she asks. “It’s really nice out.”

There must have been something in her voice, because he catches on and his smile lessens. “Is everythin’ okay?” he asks.

Aradia bites her lip. “Sollux and I had a fight,” she says tersely, glancing over her shoulder at their table.  “I can’t talk to him right now.”

Eridan doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he takes Aradia by the arm gently and leads her through the big glass double doors to the side of the school.

It’s unseasonably warm outside, despite that morning’s frost, and it smells like autumn—the air crisp and full of smoke and rotting leaves. The sun is pouring down on the wall outside their school, molten and tinged with reds and oranges and golds from the trees. Aradia feels immediately better just from being outside.

She sits down on one of the low brick walls and tips her head back, resting on her arms. The sky is robin’s-egg blue and cloudless. It’s the kind of day that makes you think nothing bad can happen, even if it already has.

Eridan sits down beside her, putting his lunch tray to one side. “What happened?” he asks in a soft, comforting voice. “Do you wanna talk about it? Cause I get it if you don’t—“

“I want to talk about it,” she interrupts. Eridan shuts his mouth and leans back.

“We’ve never had a fight before,” she starts softly. “Not once in all thirteen years of knowing each other. Not like this one. I was screaming at him, Eridan, and he was screaming right back. He said I was helpless without him. But then again, I told him he didn’t care about me anymore.”

Eridan’s watching her with pity in his deep violet eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and puts his arm around her, and somehow it’s just what Aradia needs.

She doesn’t mind crying around Eridan. Nobody else is out here, and out of everyone she knows, he won’t judge her for it. So she lets go and sobs, clutching his shirt, her face buried in his scarf, and he just holds her tightly and strokes her hair and whispers “It’s okay, it’s okay,” over and over.

It takes some time for her to cry herself out. Eridan holds her through it, and it helps more than she’d imagined it would. But finally she emerges, face wet and red, and he’s got his eyes closed and a heartbreakingly sad expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Ar,” he tells her quietly.

She swallows down another sob, gulping for air, and shakes her head. “It’s not your fault.”

Inside, she can see Feferi sitting by one of the huge windows facing out onto the courtyard. She’s watching them curiously, but Aradia’s too tired to even feel annoyance. She just lays her head back down on Eridan’s shoulder and picks up her bottle of water.

“So,” she says briskly, forcing the tremor out of her voice. “How was your weekend?”

It’s the worst transition ever, but Eridan just goes with it, thank God. He forces a smile and picks up his sandwich. “Not long enough. How was yours’?”

It gets better from there on out. Neither of them brings up Aradia’s crying jag again, and Eridan’s presence alone is enough to make her feel better. There’s no one else outside, even though it’s beautiful, and it’s almost as if for just that short half-hour they’re the only two people in the world.

“Fall’s my favorite season,” Eridan tells her as she picks up her bagel.

She grins and throws a bit of it at the fountain in the center of the courtyard. It bounces off the rim and lands on the brick walkway. “Me too,” she says. “It’s the only good thing about New England.”

A moment later, a bird descends on the discarded piece of Aradia’s lunch. She laughs and tosses another handful of crumbs towards it, and soon, the first sparrow is joined by a second one. They peck at the bread with short yellow beaks.

“Look,” she says to Eridan, and lifts her hand to point them out. He smiles softly and offers the birds a bit of his sandwich crust.

They keep feeding the sparrows their lunch until Aradia’s bagel is gone and the bell cuts through their laughter.

Aradia groans. “I don’t want to leave,” she protests. “It’s too nice out here to stay inside.”

“Then let’s not,” offers Eridan.

She twists around to face him. “Are you suggesting we cut class?” she asks incredulously.

Eridan’s smile is bright in the filtered afternoon sunlight. “’Cut’ is a strong word,” he tells her. “We’re just takin’ a bit of time off. For the sake a’ your mental stability.”

“My mental stability?” Aradia repeats. She’s not sure whether to laugh or be offended.

“Too much school ruins your brain,” he grins.

Aradia’s never skipped class before. Mainly, it’s because she has nothing else to do during class time, and even if she did she’d have no one to do it with. But she really doesn’t want to go to class, even though it’s history and even though Eridan is in it with her. And it really is a gorgeous day.

“You are such a bad influence on me,” she groans.

Eridan grins even more. “Hey, I’m just introducin’ you to some adventure in your life.”

The warning bell rings, but Aradia ignores it. Instead, she lies back, placing her head in Eridan’s lap. The tips of her curls brush the ground.

“You look funny upside down,” she tells him.

Eridan just smiles softly down at her and runs his fingers through her hair. She resists the temptation to purr. His fingers feel good, rhythmic and calming, and she closes her eyes.

*

It turns out Eridan skips class a lot, because he knows all the places to go on campus and all the ways not to get caught by teachers. “As long as you act like you belong, they don’t bother you,” he tells her. “I skip all the time with Dave an’ sometimes Gam an’ Kar. Most of these classes are bullshit anyway.”

“Not history,” Aradia protests.

He nods. “Nah, not history. I like that one. It’s the only interestin’ thing in this whole fuckin’ school.”

“I didn’t take you for a history buff,” she says, her interest peaked. “You’re always arguing with Mr. Droogs in class.”

Eridan smirks and winks at her. “It’s a secret, don’t tell.”

During history, they stay outside talking, Aradia with her head in Eridan’s lap and Eridan’s nimble fingers weaving patterns in her hair. He tells her jokes, and she tells him about her favorite movies, and they try to catch falling leaves. When one finally lands on Aradia’s nose, she grins and picks it up.

It’s deep crimson red with brown veins running out to the tips of the five points, the edges fraying and brown but the center still rich with color.

“Make a wish,” she tells him. “Wishes on caught leaves always come true.”

“Do they come true for you?”

“I’ve never caught a leaf before,” she says simply.

 _I wish this could last forever,_ Aradia thinks as hard as she can, twirling the leaf’s stem between her thumb and index finger. _Everything about it._

When she looks up at Eridan, his eyes are shut tight. After a moment, they open, and he looks back down at her.

“Ready?” asks Aradia. He nods.

She closes her fist around the leaf and then slowly unfurls it. The wind picks the crimson fragments up off her palm, sending them dancing off into the sky.

“What did you wish for?”

He rolls his eyes but smiles affectionately. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“You’re too superstitious,” she tells him.

“An’ you’re one to talk,” he retorts. “You got me wishin’ on leaves.”

“Just watch.” Aradia closes her eyes and shifts, rolling her head in his lap. “It’ll come true. You’ll see.”

Eridan mutters something that sounds like “hope so,” but she isn’t sure.

They’re quieter during the last block of school. At least, they don’t talk. Instead, they pull out Eridan’s iPod and take turns picking songs. He’s got an eclectic music taste, ranging from rock to rap to indie and from very good to very bad. Still, she’s surprised by the variety and the sheer amount.

After a while, they let it settle on a calming album they both like, and Eridan plays with Aradia’s hair while she soaks in the late autumn sun. It’s perfectly peaceful. She’s all but forgotten that Sollux and Feferi exist, much less about any fight she may have had. In fact, it’s easy to forget there’s a world outside of their little leaf-covered courtyard.

It all comes rushing back too quickly when the last bell finally rings. The hallways begin to flood with liberated students, a few trickling out into their calm haven, and Aradia finally sits up.

“I guess we should go,” she says reluctantly.

“I’ll drive you home,” Eridan offers. It’s not even a question at this point, but a given—Aradia belongs in Eridan’s car.

She nods and grins at him. “Thank you.”

Aradia has to make a quick detour to her locker—just because she might have turned into a temporary rebel for one afternoon doesn’t mean she’s going to skip her homework—with the promise that she’ll meet Eridan by his car in five minutes. She heads off feeling light as air.

She sinks as soon as she sees the person by her locker.

He’s walking toward her briskly, almost running, as soon as he catches sight of her. Aradia tries to turn away, but the crowd is too thick.

“aa, _really?_ Eridan Ampora?” Sollux asks, catching her by the arm. He sounds angry and abandoned and confused and worried all at once, and it combines to make his tone annoyed.

Aradia spins around. “It’s none of your business who I choose to hang out with,” she says coldly.

“You _cut class,_ ” he says pointedly. “He’s a bad influence, aa.”

“Why do you care?” she seethes. “At least I’m out of your hair now, right? So what, I’m too clingy but I’m not allowed to have any other friends? Make up your goddamn mind, Sollux.”

She turns away, stalking off towards her locker, but Sollux follows her. “Don’t do this, aa,” he begs. “C’mon. I’m sorry, okay? Don’t be mad. Please.”

“Too late.”

Aradia shoves her books into her bag and slams her locker shut. She finally meets Sollux’s eyes, and she almost breaks down right there and forgives him, because he doesn’t look angry anymore—just abandoned and hopeless. And his eyes are so sad and so beautiful, and she remembers why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“You blew it,” she murmurs, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. “I gave you all the chances I had, Sollux. You blew it.”

This time, when she turns away, he doesn’t try to follow.

Eridan is leaning against his car with his earbuds in when Aradia comes outside. When he sees her, his expression changes. There must have been something on her face to tip him off.

“Did somethin’ happen in there?” he asks as soon as she’s in earshot.

Aradia shakes her head. Despite everything, she feels oddly, beautifully serene.

“Everything’s okay,” she tells him, and somehow, she knows she’s telling the truth.  “Let’s get home.”

One of her favorite things about Eridan is that despite how talkative he can be, he knows when not to ask questions, and he can obviously tell that now is one of those times.  Or maybe it’s just that he seems preoccupied by something, too; he’s holding the steering wheel tightly and staring straight out at the road, his eyes far away.

One of Aradia’s CDs is playing over the stereo, one she loaned him a few days ago when he was at her house, and she starts singing the words softly under her breath. Suddenly, Eridan lets out a short, sharp burst of laughter, and she looks up, startled. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. “Just rememberin’ somethin’.”

He looks at her now, _really_ looks at her, his eyes drinking everything in with strange hunger and curiosity, and it feels like the first time he’s ever looked at her. A shiver runs down Aradia’s spine.

“You’re staring,” she says softly.

He blinks. “Sorry.”

But he doesn’t look away, those deep purple eyes still locked on her, so different from Sollux’s honey-almond ones.

Aradia looks back, and she has the strangest thought. She thinks, “maybe these are eyes I could fall in love with.”

“You’re really pretty, Ar,” he tells her.

She can feel heat rise in her cheeks. “Thanks,” she murmurs, knowing she probably sounds as confused as she feels.

His voice is strange, all strangled and choked-up-sounding, and he keeps biting his lip. “Is there something wrong?” she asks.

Eridan looks away. “This is gonna sound crazy.”

“I’m used to it.”

He doesn’t laugh, just sighs slowly, letting the air blow out from between his pursed lips, and Aradia watches the contours of his face that she’s come to know so well. His profile is illuminated by the slanting golden sunlight pouring in through his window. It almost looks like he’s glowing.

“I gotta tell you somethin’, Ar,” he says. “It’s killin’ me inside not to say it. An’ I’m sorry if it fucks everythin’ up, but I can’t keep it a secret any longer.”

 Aradia doesn’t even try to pretend she understands, but she doesn’t ask any questions. She’s learned to just let Eridan talk himself out when he’s rambling.

He laughs again, but it’s a humorless sound, the kind you give when you’re too nervous to function properly. “God, I can’t believe I’m doin’ this again,” he mutters, almost to himself. “This is exactly the way I fucked up last time. _Exactly._ ”

He looks defeated already, and Aradia’s heart goes out to him. She makes a silent promise to herself that no matter what has happened that’s eating him away like this, she’ll do everything she can to stop him from hurting.

“Promise me,” he says. “Promise that no matter what, this won’t screw it up. Won’t screw us up. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you too, Ar.”

“Promise,” Aradia says immediately.

“Okay.”

Eridan sighs again, and then he takes a huge gulp of air, like he’s been holding his breath.

“I’m into you,” he says.

That’s it? “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Like…” he trails off, biting his lip again. He does that more often these days, she’s noticed. It’s a habit she’s been trying to break herself.

“Uh, how do you feel about goin’ to see a movie with me sometime? Alone?”

“Like a date,” Aradia says slowly.

He nods emphatically. “Exactly like a date.”

“Are you asking me out, Eridan?”

Eridan doesn’t say anything, but he’s clutching the steering wheel and pointedly avoiding her eyes.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, he turns his head, and it’s like that time more than a month ago in the cafeteria. She’s caught in his stare again, and it’s just as compelling, just as fascinating, just as beautiful.

_These are eyes I could fall in love with._

“Yes,” she says.

He smiles, and it’s like a sunrise, warm and lovely and gradual. And Aradia thinks, _this could work,_ this thing between them. She could fall in love, and this time, maybe she won’t get hurt.

Maybe this is their second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that was a satisfactory enough return for you guys ;)


	10. and you're the only place that feels like home

_I found the cure to growing older_   
_And you’re the only place that feels like home._   
_Just so you know, you’ll never know_   
_And some secrets are meant to be told_   
_But I found the cure to growing older._

_-I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me_

_You’re a fuckin’ mess._

Eridan stands in front of the bathroom mirror, nervously running his fingers through his hair for the hundredth time. He’s got fifteen minutes until he has to pick Aradia up, and he’s half-dressed and hasn’t shaved and now his hair is all limp and wet. It looks like a clump of soggy Ramen noodles pouring off the crown of his head.

He pulls off his shirt in frustration and holds a purple sweater up to his reflection, then drops it. _Too hipster._ And his t-shirts are too casual, but his button-downs are too businessy, and besides they don’t look good with his skinny jeans, and none of it will matter if his hair doesn’t cooperate, and he is going to be so fucking late.

More likely than not, Ar won’t even care. She’s not the type to pay attention to those kinds of things, but Eridan can’t help but make an effort anyway. He hasn’t been on a date in a long time, much less one that matters as much as this one.

Part of him still can’t believe it. He’d meant to stay quiet, to try not to ruin their fragile friendship, and he’d thought he could do it. But that afternoon had shot his plans to hell. The whole time, all he could think were distinctly not-friend-like thoughts about how gorgeous she looked against the backdrop of fiery leaves and how he wondered what her lips tasted like.

And then she’d said yes. _She’d fucking said yes._ Eridan had been sure she’d say no; it had all been so similar, he was having flashbacks to that night, and for a moment he was sure he’d heard her say “I don’t think of you that way.”  But it was Fef’s voice, not hers’. She’d said yes.

Eridan takes another long look at his reflection and then dives back into his closet with renewed determination.

*

_This is it._

Eridan pulls down the mirror on his car’s visor and smoothes down his hair, flattening out the dyed-purple streak in front, then checks his breath. His hands are trembling slightly.

 _It’s just Aradia,_ he tells himself. _You know Aradia._

But he can’t separate the thought of ‘just Aradia’, who he’d watched puke into a toilet while hungover  and serve burgers in a polyester shirt, from _Aradia,_ who was beautiful and hot and funny and enchanting and a whole mess of other things he was still trying to figure out. “Just Aradia” didn’t help.

And over thinking doesn’t help, either. Eridan grits his teeth and yanks the door open, marching up to her front door before he can chicken out.

He presses the doorbell and then runs his fingers through his hair one last time. His stomach is a mass of nerves.

The anxiety intensifies when the door swings open.

“Hey,” Aradia says shyly.

Eridan thinks his mouth might be hanging open, but he’s not sure. God, he’d seen her yesterday, but he didn’t remember her being this… _pretty._ She’s got her hair up, a few strands still framing her face, and her eyes are even bigger and browner than he’d thought.

She blinks. “Eridan?”

“Hi, Ar,” he says weakly.

She giggles, and suddenly the tension is broken. “It’s just me, you know,” she tells him.

Her hand slides into his, and Aradia smiles up at him, and Eridan goes weak at the knees. Her hand is small and soft. She interlaces her fingers with his.

“Ready?”

Eridan nods. “Yeah.”

He’s got another CD that she loaned him playing in the car. She grins when it turns on, and Eridan feels a surge of pride. He’d never admit he’d chosen it on purpose--that was just too cheesy.

“Good song,” she says. “Didn’t know you liked Blink-182.”

“A friend recommended them to me,” he answers, and she laughs.

Aradia’s been in his car a hundred times before, sitting in that exact same spot, but somehow, she looks different this time.  Maybe it’s because she’s dressed up, or because, she’d put effort into her makeup or something, but Eridan thinks it might just be because he’s letting himself look at her like a _woman,_ like a girl he could be with, instead of just a friend.

“So, what’s the plan?” asks Aradia.

Eridan bites his lip nervously. It’s a habit he’s picked from her; it’s sexy when she does it, but he just copies it when he gets nervous. “Dinner and a movie?” he suggests. “Sorry, I’m not that creative.”

“Dinner’s good,” Aradia agrees.

“Where to?”

“Not the diner,” she says quickly.

Eridan nods. “Definitely not the fuckin’ diner.”

They pass straight by it and end up in front of a little Italian place, just off Main Street.  Eridan hasn’t ever been there before, and he’s pretty sure there’s some rule about going to a completely foreign and kind of cheap-looking dive on a first date but fuck it, where the hell else are they supposed to go in this town?

He parks on the street and runs around to open the door for Aradia and she admonishes him for not looking both ways before running into traffic and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to laugh but he’s just too goddamned nervous, so he ends up choking out a half-formed chuckle that makes it sound like he’s about to hurl and she looks at him strangely and god, he’s fucked it up already. Jesus Christ.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Aradia cocks her head sideways and asks “why?” and she looks really damn cute and he realizes he has no idea what he’s apologizing for.

“Let’s just go eat,” he says weakly.

She doesn’t try to hold his hand as they walk into the restaurant. Eridan’s kind of glad, because his palms are a sweaty mess right now and god, he’s never been this nervous around a girl before except maybe Fef. Then again, technically, this is only the second or maybe third actual date he’s been on in his life, so maybe he’s allowed to be scared.

“Eridan?” Aradia asks softly.

He looks down at her. “Yeah?”

She watches him for a long moment, and then looks away and shakes her head and sighs. “Never mind.”

Well, fuck.

Eridan’s so busy cursing himself out that he barely notices when they get to the door of the restaurant, and he has to dive in front of Aradia to get the door for her before she does and it almost slams in her face as a result, which strangely makes her laugh. Whatever, he’ll take it.

The restaurant isn’t bad on the inside. It’s got the typical Italian-restaurant stereotypes—dim lighting, extensive bar, little two-seater tables tucked into corners. Eridan suddenly wishes he’d picked somewhere else— _anywhere­_ else, maybe even the diner, because this is just _too_ romantic and stereotypical first-date. Aradia’s got an indecipherable look on her face; he can’t figure out whether she thinks it’s cute or tacky and she’s never been this goddamn enigmatic before.

This was a mistake, he thinks morosely. He’s just killed another friendship with his stupid hormones. Maybe if he could stop himself from falling for every one of his girl friends—

“They’re going to seat us,” Aradia tells him.

Eridan fumbles to recover. “Oh. Yeah, okay,” he says hesitantly. Aradia’s mouth is screwed up like she’s angry or nervous or disappointed.

They follow the hostess to the table, and she puts them at one of those little hidden-away date tables in the corner, lit with red candles and decorated with roses. Eridan winces.

“Enjoy your meal,” the girl says perkily, and then winks at Aradia. Aradia smiles a bit, but it’s not like the way she’s smiled at Eridan before, when he can tell she actually thinks something is funny. This one’s small and tight and very forced.

She sits down quickly, before Eridan can get the chair for her, and props her chin in her hand. The date might be going to shit already, but Eridan can’t help but think about how pretty she looks in this soft lighting. And it just makes it harder, because he just cannot reconcile this beautiful, elegant Aradia with the Aradia he knows.

“This is a nice restaurant,” she says.

Eridan nods. She presses her lips together.

The waiter comes over to their table to pour water and take their orders, and it’s an attractive young man, which just makes everything even worse because now Eridan’s nervous and awkward _and_ proactively jealous. It’s definitely not a good combination, and he can feel every bit of hereditary Ampora suavity and charm dripping away.

“Eridan,” Aradia says, her voice exasperated.

He looks up at her. She’s staring at him hard, and her eyes have a strange mixture of anger and determination in them.

“What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothin’s wrong. Everythin’s great, Ar, I’m really happy to be here.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” she tells him. Yeah, definitely exasperated.

“I’m—Ar, I’m seriously okay, this is great, I’m really happy to be here, aren’t you?”

He’s running his mouth without even thinking about his words, just trying to keep her involved and here at the table before she realizes what a huge mistake this all was and wants to be taken home. She’s scrutinizing him, and he feels like an exhibition in a museum, but he can’t tell what she’s thinking at all. This is the biggest fuck-up he’s ever made. God, he hates himself.

“Listen. Forget it, okay?”

“Forget what?” he says, his heart doing a nose-dive into his churning stomach.

“Everything,” says Aradia. “Forget everything else. Forget Feferi and Sollux, forget Kurloz and Vriska, forget hangovers and diners and football games and car rides and coffee and Pesterchum conversations and everything. Forget our whole long awkward history, okay? Pretend we’ve never met before tonight, and this is a normal first date. Because that’s what I want this to be. I want this to work, okay?” She gestures between them with one hand. “Just as much as you do. So just…pretend.”

Eridan stares at her, dumbfounded, because wow, that is absolutely not what he expected her to say.  But somehow, it _is_ what he needed to hear.

“Okay,” he says, and then looks down at his hands and takes a deep breath. “Hi, Ar. I’m Eridan.”

“Hi, Eridan,” Aradia says.

“I’m really glad we could go out tonight. What do you do for a livin’?”

“I wait tables at a terrible cheesy diner,” she replies. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m just a student. I write poetry sometimes, I can play a little guitar.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Just some whiny, self-indulgent emo that you’ve probably never heard of. What about you?”

Her lips are curving into a smile even before he’s finished his sentence, and something breaks free in his chest, and suddenly it’s kind of hard to breathe. “Just some crappy pop-rock bullshit that you’ve probably never heard of,” she replies.

And then they’re both laughing, and Aradia’s leg brushes his under the table and sparks fly up his calf and it’s like a dam has broken. Words are pouring out between them and it feels perfect, it feels like fizzing bubbles in his brain, like being drunk but having perfect clarity, like something he’s never felt before in his life that he thinks might just be real, true, requited love, or at least the beginning of it.

The rest of dinner is easy as breathing. They fall back into their normal repertoire, and Aradia’s laughing and her eyes are shining. Every so often, she’ll reach over and touch Eridan’s wrist and sparks will fizz in his veins and he thinks this is what people mean when they talk about chemistry. It’s like what he felt around Fef, except amplified, because this time it’s chemistry on both sides. Their dinner comes and it’s pretty mediocre, but Eridan barely notices because he’s not concentrating on his meal. The restaurant that seemed so intimidating at first is suddenly perfect—cozy instead of cheesy, and he’s actually glad they ended up here.

When their waiter comes around with the dessert menu, Eridan gets them coffee and some chocolatey thing despite Aradia’s halfhearted protests. She tells him “I like this place. It’s got better coffee than the diner.”

“The diner’s kinda a shitty place for a first date,” he says.

Aradia laughs. “Try telling Sollux and Feferi that.”

“I thought they didn’t exist.”

“I don’t think it matters,” she says softly, and she’s right. Whatever happens next, they’ve both felt this thing between them already, and Eridan doesn’t think it’s going away anytime soon.

“Isn’t it funny, though?” she continues. “The way this has all turned out. Them and us, I mean.”

Eridan nods. “It’s not a bad thing, though. Is it?”

“No, definitely not.” She smiles at him and reaches across the table to put her hand on top of his.

After Eridan gets the check (Aradia protested, but Eridan reminded her that it’s perfectly okay and not misogynistic for a guy to spring for dinner once in a while) neither of them want to get up, worried that if they do, this chemistry between them might shatter. At least, that’s how it is for Eridan. He doesn’t want to let the night end, and it’s still only eight—relatively early, too early for them to be done.

So he says, “Y’know, it’s retro movie night at the theater tonight.”

Aradia smiles at him, like she knows what he’s doing but she’s totally okay with it. “What movie’s on?”

“ _Rebel Without A Cause,_ ” he tells her.

She laughs. “Are you serious? We’re really bringing the fifties back now, aren’t we?”

“It’s a good movie,” protests Eridan.

Aradia stands up and takes his hand, pulling him up. “We’ll have to see,” she says playfully. “Come on.”

*

The movie theater’s not crowded when they get there, but it’s not completely empty. There’s a mix of people milling around the lobby—mostly teenagers that Eridan recognizes from school, though there are a few older people too, maybe middle-aged has-beens wanting to relive their golden days of youth or something. Aradia’s still holding his hand. It makes Eridan feel a little self-conscious—not a lot of people at school know about them, and he’d really prefer to keep it that way so he won’t have to deal with the gossip he knows will come if they did—but Aradia doesn’t let go, and he sure as hell isn’t going to.

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Aradia sighs. “I’ve never had time. I miss it.”

Eridan’s only been here once or twice in his life. The only reason he suggested it was because he didn’t want the night to end, and it was close by. He’s seen _Rebel Without A Cause_ about a thousand times because of Cronus, though, and for some odd reason, he loves it.

Aradia waves to a few people while they’re getting tickets and popcorn. Most of them do a double take when they see the way her other hand is clutched in Eridan’s before hesitantly waving back, but no matter what, she doesn’t let go even when he’s trying to juggle two tickets, two drinks and a humongous bucket of popcorn in one arm. It’s reassuring—just because they’ve gotten past that terrible awkward phase doesn’t mean he’s not still nervous, but Aradia’s hand in his makes him calmer.

The theater is dimly lit and filled with the low hum of voices. Aradia leads Eridan to a seat somewhere in the middle, which relieves him, because he’d never say it out loud but the couples already making out in the back rows of the theater intimidate him. She settles into her seat and grins up at him.

“I think this is the most stereotypical teenage thing I’ve ever done,” she tells him. “We have absolutely no creativity.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” says Eridan.

Aradia pulls him down into the seat next to her. “No,” she agrees, “it’s not.”

It takes a few minutes for the lights to go down. When they do, the velvet curtains in front of the screen part and one of those cheery clips about not disturbing the movie rolls. Eridan has a newfound awareness of the dark—he can feel, rather than see, every one of Aradia’s movements next to him as she settles into her seat.

The familiar music starts then, and the title screen comes up, fading into James Dean’s feet. Eridan’s seen it so many times that he could probably recite all the lines, but this time, he just can’t concentrate on it. It’s one of those movie theaters where there’s only one arm rest for both seats, so they’re both awkwardly sharing it, and it feels like there’s an electric current flowing through the couple inches separating his arm from Aradia’s.

He has to physically stop himself from looking over at her every few seconds. She’s watching the beginning credits intensely, her eyes focused on the names flashing by in red while James Dean lies on the ground. Eridan guesses she really hasn’t seen this movie before, which surprises him a little. He’d kind of taken her for the type who’d love old movies.

She seems fascinated, though. She doesn’t even break her avid concentration when she reaches over to grab a handful of popcorn from the bucket in Eridan’s lap. Her reactions to the on-screen occurrences are exaggerated—she looks legitimately fearful when Dean gets busted by the cops, happy when he’s with his girl, sympathetic for his troubles, and nervous during the suspenseful parts.

During the scene where he nearly drives his car off the cliff, he stops concentrating on her and actually watches the movie for the first time. This has always been his favorite part—it’s so tense and on-edge, and the directing skill is incredible, especially for the fifties.

He absently reaches for the popcorn, his mind on screen with the rebel in the car, when his hand brushes against something warm that shoots an electric charge up his arm. Startled, he jerks his arm back just as Aradia does the same. She looks up at him and gives a short, nervous giggle. “Sorry,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” he murmurs stupidly, and places his hand safely in his own lap.

It’s so stupid, he thinks, while on screen the cars rev their engines. They’ve already held hands a few times; what’s the big deal now? Christ, they’re like shy middle schoolers or something. And Eridan Ampora sure as hell is not shy.

He needs to do something decidedly not-shy. Step it up a notch. What do guys normally do at movie dates, anyway?

There’s a boy a few rows ahead of them with his arm around his girl, and it seems fairly innocuous. Eridan’s not exactly going to swoop in and start making out with Aradia in the middle of the movie—he’s not _that_ crazy—but this seems fine. He can totally do this.

Very casually, he lifts his hand over his head like he’s stretching and mimes a yawn. Aradia doesn’t even notice—she’s gone back to concentrating hard on the movie.  God, he is so smooth.

Eridan lowers his arm around her shoulders just as the cars go shooting off the end of the cliff.

Aradia nearly screams. She jumps about half a foot in the air and lets out a strangled sound, and Eridan immediately withdraws his arm, his face going red. She spins around wildly, her eyes wide, as if looking for some secret attacker. It takes her a moment to realize what actually happened.

“Oh,” she says softly, and then collapses into laughter that’s barely muffled by her hand. Eridan tries to hold it in, but soon he’s cracking up too at the absurdity of it mixed with the intense relief. It’s too bad—he misses his favorite part of the movie, but it’s worth it, because once they’ve regained their composure Aradia pulls his arm back around her shoulders and leans in, nestling her head to his chest.

She’s really warm, Eridan thinks. And so fragile. He can feel her heartbeat.

His arm falls asleep after a while, but he doesn’t move it for the rest of the movie. Aradia can’t be too comfortable, either—she’s leaning over the stupid arm rest and it’s probably digging into her side—but she seems completely content. Every so often, she’ll let out a little sigh, the warm air of her breath tickling Eridan’s chin.

Desperately, he wishes the movie would never have to end, but the credits roll way too soon and the lights go up and Aradia untangles herself from Eridan’s arm and stands up. “I loved it,” she proclaims with a broad smile.

Truth be told, Eridan hadn’t been able to concentrate on the movie at all. But all the same, he returns the grin and says “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”

He’s not surprised to feel her hand slipping back into his as they exit the small theater, but it doesn’t fail to send those familiar sparks shooting up his arm. Aradia seems blissfully unaware. Either that, or she’s very good at hiding it, or maybe she’s just very happy. And judging from the pure happiness in her eyes and bounce in her step, he’d say it’s the third option. His mood matches hers’ exactly.

The street is completely dark save a few streetlights when they step back out, and Eridan is suddenly reminded of that first night, the first time Aradia ever rode in his car. It’s almost the same—the air still crisp and clear, the stars shining overhead like beacons, the wind ruffling the leaves gently. Even Aradia looks almost the same, albeit much happier. It’s a calm kind of happy, though, where they’re both content to walk in silence and wonder how things turned out this way.

He drives her home through dark, deserted streets, the streetlights flashing over her face in strange patterns. The CD is still playing in the background, and he’s glad for the noise—he doesn’t feel the need to fill the space with conversation.

It’s ending, he realizes as he makes the familiar turn onto her street. The night’s almost over. He can barely stomach the thought—he doesn’t want to leave her, doesn’t want to go back to the real world. He wants to stay in this night forever.

But he has to pull into her driveway eventually, and the CD turns off when he cuts the engine.

“Come on,” he says in the sudden silence. “I’ll walk you in.”

The night air is cold, and Aradia’s shivering a little. The porch is lit by one dim lamp, like a spotlight in the night, creating a golden puddle on the old wood. She pauses in front of the door.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Tonight was…incredible.”

 _Incredible_ isn’t a strong enough word, he thinks. Nothing is. There’s not a single word in the whole fucking language strong enough to convey what he’s feeling.

And he knows what he’s supposed to do—what he _has_ to do, if he’s being honest with himself. Aradia is the best thing to happen to him in a damn long time—maybe even forever.

“It was,” he agrees.

She smiles at him, and she is so beautiful, so wonderful, so _his._ It’s unbelievable.

Eridan reaches out and wraps his arms around her waist, and they both know what’s coming, and they both know that if it happens, there’s no going back, that this thing is a _thing_ now, real and official and true. And Eridan’s ready, he really is. He’s never been more ready for anything in his life.

They move as easy as breathing, Aradia’s lips coming up to meet his in a perfect, movie moment, and she’s so warm, and her lips are so soft, and Eridan almost wishes that his eyes weren’t closed so he could see her while this monumental, incredible thing happens, but it’s better this way—he doesn’t have to see to know that she’s there, solid and wonderful and his.

Maybe it lasts forever. Maybe it takes place in the blink of an eye. All Eridan knows is that it happened, and for that moment, the world crashed down and the only thing left was them, was Eridan and Aradia and this old porch. And he thinks, _this is it._ This is what he’s been waiting for his whole life. Not Fef. Not any of his misguided hookups. This girl, right here, is what he needs.

It ends, of course. All things do. But it ends with a wondrous smile on Aradia’s face and her fingers hot on the back of his neck and the words “Oh my god. Wow.”

She whispers them reverently, almost to herself, and Eridan wants to kiss her again just for that. But he just holds her, both their hearts beating out of time, in sync with each other.


	11. the boy who had too many chances

_I confess, I messed up, dropping “I’m sorry” like you’re still around_   
_And I know you dressed up—“hey kid, you’ll never live this down”_   
_Cause you’re just the girl all the boys wanna dance with_   
_And I’m just the boy who had too many chances_

_-A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More “Touch Me”_

On Saturday morning, Aradia wakes slowly. Sunlight streams through her gauzy curtains, striping the sheets tangled around her legs with golden bars and casting light patches onto the wooden floor.

The memories of last night come into focus slowly, like a developing photograph. First comes the blurry outline—dinner, movie, car ride—and then the details fade in. Eridan’s hand in hers’, the leather of the car seat, the warmth of the coffee, his arm around her shoulders, his heartbeat as she rests her head on his chest.

His arms around her waist. His lips on hers’.

Aradia lifts a tentative hand and brushes her fingers across her mouth. It doesn’t _feel_ any different, not like she’d been kissed, and she finds herself wondering if it might have just been a particularly wonderful dream.

And maybe it was. Maybe she’d made it all up.

She slides out of bed, her bare feet hitting the wood floor with a slap, and walks over to her computer to boot up Pesterchum. He probably won’t be awake yet. She isn’t even sure why she herself is. But this seems important—she needs verification, needs to know it wasn’t all in her head.

 **\--** **apocalypseArisen**   **[AA]  ** **began pestering** **caligulasAquarium [CA]**  **at 9:26 AM –**

** AA: was last night real? **  
****

She collapses into the desk chair and rests her head on her arms, then waits for a response to pop up on the screen. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take very long.

** CA: if it wwasn’t then i hope wwe at least had the same dream **  
****

Just the color of his text makes a reflexive smile spread across her lips, and when she reads the words, it grows even more.

** AA: i just needed t0 make sure it wasn’t all in my head **  
****

** CA: as far as i knoww it wwas all pretty real **  
****

** CA: as much as it mighta seemed like a dream **  
****

** AA: it did th0ugh **  
****

** AA: but a g00d dream **  
****

** CA: wwell i’d damn wwell hope so haha **  
****

God, she is pathetic. She’s sitting here grinning stupidly at a computer and wishing Eridan was right here with her so she could actually hear his laugh rather than read a word on a screen.

She begins to type a message back to Eridan, but at that moment, another chatpane pops up next to his.

 **\-- twinArmageddons**   **[TA]**   **began pestering apocalypseArisen**   **[AA]  ** **at 9:32 AM–**

** TA: hey aa **  
****

** TA: you there? **  
****

And just like that, the real world comes flooding back to her.

She moves to close Sollux’s message, but as the cursor hovers over the X, another message appears.

** TA: ii ju2t wanted two 2ay ii’m 2orry **  
****

** TA: plea2e hear me out, okay, aa? **  
****

And in the other window, Eridan types “ **hey you still there** ”

** AA: im here ****  
**** **

** TA: oh thank god okay lii2ten aa ****  
**** **

** TA: ii’m really 2orry, ii’m 2eriiou2 ****  
**** **

** TA: ii 2aiid 2ome 2hiit that was totally out of line and ii feel terriible ****  
**** **

** TA: and iit’2 kiilliing me not two be able two talk two you because you’re my be2t friend ****  
**** **

** TA: and ii really don’t want to lo2e you ****  
**** **

** TA: aa? ****  
**** **

** AA: i think y0u sh0uld c0me 0ver ****  
**** **

Aradia leans back and presses a forearm to her eyes, trying to force back the headache that’s forming behind her eyes. This is probably a horrible fucking idea.  But she’s hurting, too. The first person she wanted to talk to after she got home the night before was Sollux, because she’d always confided in him with sensitive matters like these before. And she misses her best friend.

She closes out of her chatpane with him before she can say anything else stupid and focuses her attention on the other message. Eridan’s been worried about her, it seems.

** CA: you’re okay right ar ****  
**** **

** CA: did you die or something ****  
**** **

** CA: please don’t tell me you died that wwould really suck cause i kinda really like you ****  
**** **

** CA: but then it’d be just my fuckin luck wwouldn’t it ****  
**** **

** CA: first girl i actually got a chance wwith in just about forevver and she dies the night after our first date ****  
**** **

** CA: you probably ran awway wwith tavv or somethin didn’t you ****  
**** **

** AA: n0 im still alive d0nt w0rry 0u0 ****  
**** **

** CA: oh good okay thank god i wwas about to call the police ****  
**** **

** AA: but i d0 have t0 g0 n0w ****  
**** **

** AA: im s0rry eridan ****  
**** **

** AA: but ill see y0u s00n 0kay ****  
**** **

** CA: message me later okay? ****  
**** **

** AA: 0f c0urse ****  
**** **

Her fingers hover indecisively over the keys, and she presses ‘enter’ before she can chicken out.

** AA: <3 ****  
**** **

**\--** **apocalypseArisen**   **[AA]  ** **ceased pestering** **caligulasAquarium [CA]**   **at 9:47 AM –**

A moment later, the doorbell rings. For the first time in her life, knowing that it’s Sollux doesn’t make her heart rate pick up and her palms begin to sweat. She doesn’t even bother glancing in the mirror to check her bedhead.

Sollux looks just as sleepy when she opens the door. He’s wearing a stained t-shirt and old mustard-yellow shorts, sneakers thrown on without the shoelaces tied, and it makes Aradia feel less self-conscious to see him like this. She doesn’t feel the burst of heat and anxiety she used to. Instead, it’s more of a warm, steady glow that comes with a friendship rather than the intense, desperate longing she’s so used to.

“Hey,” Sollux says.

Aradia offers him a small smile. “Nice shorts.”

“Nice hair.”

“Damara’s not home,” she tells him.

“I kind of assumed that.”

Sollux steps inside, and Aradia closes the front door behind him. He makes a beeline for the kitchen. “C’mon, I’ll make us coffee.”

Later, they’re sitting on Aradia’s unmade bed, shoes kicked off and half-empty mugs clutched in their hands. It’s not exactly the way it was before—Aradia gets the distinct feeling that something’s broken between them, and no matter how hard they try, it’s never going to be completely repaired. But it’s good. They’re talking, and they’re falling back into familiar old patterns as easy as breathing.

“I know it’s not going to fix everything,” Sollux is saying. “But you’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, aa. I’m not going to lose you over something so little and stupid.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” she assures him. She doesn’t look up at him, though, instead staring into her coffee cup as if it contains all the answers she needs.

He sighs, and she redirects her gaze. Sollux looks uncharacteristically sad. She’s not sure how she hadn’t noticed it before.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

He nods. “ff and I broke up,” he says with a wry smile.

Aradia nearly drops her coffee mug. Whatever she thought Sollux might say, she definitely hadn’t expected that.

“Oh, Sollux,” she sighs, and wraps her arm around his shoulders.

He sags into her, his eyes fluttering closed as he rests his head on top of hers’. “It was mutual,” he says in a small voice. “We never really fought, but we had nothing in common, you know? She was wonderful. I could’ve loved her, I think, but we were just too different. And it was partly you, too. I couldn’t bear to lose you because of this.”

“When?” she asks.

“Last night.”

“Oh.” Her story seems inappropriate now, not something she could bring up so soon after his own heartbreak. It was even more so once she considered the people involved.

But Sollux says “It’s alright. I’m not too broken up about it. We’re still good friends.”

“That’s good,” she offers.

His head shifts on her shoulder in a nod. “Yeah. It is.”

The conversation trails off, and Aradia is content to just hold Sollux, satisfied with their newfound friendship. To her shock, she finds that she’s not necessarily happy about his breakup with Feferi. She feels bad for him—it’s obvious that he liked her—but she’d realized long ago that they probably wouldn’t work out long-term, because they _were_ very different. But it doesn’t spark any feelings of intense hope in her, and holding him doesn’t give her any strong feelings of love, aside from the friendship kind.

“So what was going on between you and ed, anyway?” he asks.

Now _that_ makes a warm, happy glow spread through her body. “Eridan?” she asks.

“What other ed would I be talking about?”

She thinks there’s probably a rather stupid smile spreading across her face, and she bites her lip. “We, um…” she trails off. “Well, we’ve been hanging out a lot recently.”

“And?”

“And we went on a date last night.”

Sollux’s face hardens immediately. His lips press into a thin line, and his eyebrows furrow. “You’re dating ed?” he asks.

Aradia nods.

“Why, aa?” he asks, and he sounds so angry. “Why him? He’s a bad influence. He’s a total douchebag.”

“He is _not_!” Aradia retorts indignantly. “He’s a good person, Sollux! I’ve talked to him a lot, and he’s smart and funny and kind, okay? Don’t judge him without knowing him.”

“But he’s nothing like you!”

The irony doesn’t fail to hit her, and she lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, you’re one to judge a relationship based on _that,_ aren’t you? I think you’ll find we have more in common than you think.”

In the back of her mind, there’s a voice saying “don’t fight with him, not now, not so soon after you just got him back.” But she can’t sit here and let him dismiss her relationship with Eridan when it’s barely begun—when moments ago, she was so happy about it. She almost wishes Sollux and Feferi didn’t break up so they could both stay out of each others’ relationships. She’d never bitched at Sollux about them, after all, no matter how much she wanted to.

“I can’t believe you think—“ he starts, but Aradia cuts him off.

“Don’t fight with me, okay?” she begs. “I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”

He sighs heavily and looks at her— _really_ looks at her, his light brown eyes holding on to hers’ with an intensity that makes her nervous. She stares back at him, but her eyes keep drifting past his gaze when it gets uncomfortable.

Finally, he reaches out and enfolds her in a hug, his lanky, sinewy arms wrapping around her shoulders. “I’m not gonna fight,” he murmurs into her hair. “I’m not. But just think about it, aa. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” she says, but it feels like an empty promise.

*

On Monday morning, Sollux is waiting outside her house in his car. Things are almost back to normal, and Aradia can tell he’s making an effort to fix what had been broken. They both consciously avoid discussing both Eridan and Feferi, sticking to more neutral topics about school and work and meaningless things that wouldn’t threaten to rip the scabs off the wounds in their relationship. And it was good. Aradia had really missed Sollux, even if she hadn’t allowed herself to admit it. His renewed presence alone was enough to make her forget about the multiple fights. She was still worried, of course; God knows what would happen if Sollux and Eridan met, or if Sollux started arguing with her again. But for now, she let herself be happy.

To her simultaneous relief and disappointment, she doesn’t see Eridan before class. She hopes he was patching things up with Feferi. Idly, she wonders if Feferi knows about their date, and if she does, if she approved of it. Aradia doesn’t particularly care about whether Feferi likes her or not, but she knows it means a lot to Eridan.

She sees both of them on the way to gym. They’re talking animatedly, both smiling, and she doesn’t think it’d be right to interrupt them. But Eridan catches her eye just as she’s about to be swept away by the crowd, and she can see even from a distance that look in his eyes: that shine, that one he’d had just after he kissed her, and it makes her fingers tingle.

He lifts his hand to wave, but before she can wave back, he’s carried down another hallway by the crowd.

Aradia lies on the bleachers, same as always, during gym and texts Eridan, which no doubt means that he’s not concentrating on Physics again but she also doubts he really cares. Feferi doesn’t bother her, to her relief, and neither does anyone else; and lying there in the sunlight, the metal bleacher burning a hole in the back of her t-shirt while she types snarky jokes at Eridan, almost makes her think that everything is going to be okay. It’ll all work out—Eridan, Sollux, Feferi, and her. They’ll all be okay.

Sollux still seems a little annoyed throughout French, but not enough that Aradia gets worried. As long as he and Eridan stay apart, nothing too bad could happen.

She skips out on the tail end of English. Their teacher is boring and drones on for hours, so fifteen minutes before the bell, Aradia ducks out under the pretense of going to the bathroom. She isn’t going to miss anything—she knows from experience—and at this point, even the school’s disgusting excuse for a lavatory seems more appealing than the classroom.

There’s another girl washing her hands in the farthest sink when Aradia comes in. She spins around at the sound of the door opening, sending water droplets flying, and Aradia sees that it’s Feferi.

Feferi waves and grins with her usual exuberance. “ _Hey,_ Aradia!” she calls. “What’s up?”

Cautiously, Aradia makes her way over to Feferi. “Hi,” she replies. “Uh, not much.”

“ _Not much?”_ Feferi repeats, and giggles. “Really? That date Friday night was just ‘not much?’”

“Oh.” In the mirror, Aradia’s reflection grows red in the cheeks. “Right. That.”

“Eridan told me _all_ about it,” says Feferi. She grabs Aradia’s hands with her own wet ones, and Aradia looks down, surprised, but Feferi’s already plowing on with the conversation. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” she continues in a more hushed tone, “but he _really_ likes you a lot, Aradia! I can tell. He lights up when he talks about you.”

“Really?” Despite everything, this bit of information makes Aradia turn even redder, and she starts grinning.  She must look just as excitable as Feferi always does.

Feferi nods solemnly. “He was telling me everything about you. You guys really do seem like you’ll be a _great_ couple!”

“Thanks, Feferi,” Aradia says, and she actually means it.

Feferi’s beam is brighter than the sun. “I’m just so _happy_ for both of you!” she continues. “Eridan’s had a hard time with dating, you know, and after that whole thing with me and Sollux I was just so _worried_ for him. But you’re _perfect_ for him, Aradia, and I promise I’m not exaggerating . I’m so glad that you guys are together!”

“I am too,” Aradia confesses. She can’t seem to wipe the stupid grin off her face.

Feferi starts bouncing—actually _bouncing_ —on the balls of her feet. She really is overly excitable, Aradia thinks, but when you’re at the tail end of the excitement, it’s almost endearing.

“Just be careful, okay?” she says. “Eridan’s my best friend. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want,” Aradia assures her.

She grins again and stops bouncing. “Then congratulations. I’m _really_ happy for you two!”

On impulse, Aradia steps forward and hugs Feferi. She seems surprised, but reciprocates happily, wrapping her arms around Aradia’s back. “I’m sorry I hated you,” Aradia whispers, quietly enough that she won’t hear it.

Then, louder, she says “Thank you for taking care of Sollux.”

Feferi steps back. Her expression has fallen, but it’s not completely sad; just wistful and bittersweet. “Sollux is an amazing guy,” she says, her voice far away. “You’re lucky to have him as your best friend.”

“I’m sorry you two didn’t work out.”

“I’m not,” she says. “I loved what we had while we had it. But it got too hard. I still love him as a friend, though.”

“That’s good,” Aradia says. She feels helpless. She’s never really had to console anyone after a breakup before, much less someone like Feferi; she’s completely out of her depth.

After an awkward moment of silence that stretched for a beat too long, Feferi says “Funny how it all worked out, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“You and Eridan,” she specifies.

And it really is. Aradia’s thinking about it even after she leaves the bathroom and Feferi, as she eats lunch with her friends and endures Nepeta’s endless questions about the date, as she sneaks out of lunch early to meet Eridan in the hallway just before history. It _is_ funny. But she’d relive every bit of it over and over again, and she doesn’t think there’s any place she’d rather be than a deserted hallway, Eridan’s hand warm and reassuring on the small of her back.

They sit together again in history. Eridan throws crumpled balls of paper at her with pick up lines on them throughout the class. They get progressively worse—they start out somewhat feasible, but then they turn cheesy, and then straight-out weird. Aradia can barely hold it together for some of the dirtier ones.

Towards the end, while she’s putting away her notebook, another ball lands in her lap. When she opens it, she sees it doesn’t contain a cheesy pickup line for once.

_no but seriously ar. let’s go on a second date sometime okay?_

She writes back “ _0kay_.”

A moment later, it’s back on her desk, and Eridan has added “<3”.

When the bell rings, she stands up and grabs his hand, threading their fingers together. “So?” Eridan asks.

She smiles.  “Yeah, sure. I’d love to.”

“I didn’t finish, you know,” he continues as he pushes open the door. “I’ve got more of those. ‘Do you work at Subway? Cause you just gave me a foot-long.’”

“Oh my _god,_ Eridan!” Aradia exclaims before bursting into laughter, nearly doubling over. She clings to his hand while she cracks up.

When she opens her eyes, the giggles immediately stop.

Sollux is leaning against the wall just outside the classroom, his arms crossed while he watches them with hard, angry eyes. Aradia’s laughter dies in her throat.

“Hey, aa,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a greeting, though, and he’s staring at Eridan instead of her when he says it.

“What are _you_ doing here?” asks Eridan, not bothering to hide his distaste.

Sollux’s face hardens even further. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he spits.

“Well, I am,” Eridan retorts. “What do you want?”

“Eridan, don’t,” Aradia says softly, but he lets go of her hand and steps forward.

“I’m here to walk my best friend to class,” says Sollux. His tone carries a definite threat in it, blatant hostility coming through strong. “What are _you_ doing?”

Eridan grits his teeth, and Aradia feels totally helpless. “I’m walking my _girlfriend_ to class,” he answers, and despite everything, that one little word is enough to make Aradia’s head light enough to forget the situation for just one moment. “You got your chance, Sol. Step off.”

“ _Step off?_ ” Sollux repeats in an incredulous tone. “Where the fuck do you get off, ed?”

“Don’t do this,” Aradia pleads, but they don’t hear her or more likely don’t care.

Sollux pushes off the wall and steps forward so he’s face-to-face with Eridan. He’s taller by half a head, and Aradia can tell he’s sizing up his competition, and she wants to stop it but she doesn’t know how without taking a side and now other people are noticing, are shoving her aside to get a better view, and Eridan and Sollux don’t even notice.

“You don’t know what it was like,” Eridan hisses. “You don’t get it, do you? You _hurt_ her. A fuckin’ lot of times. And _now_ you come back, beggin’ for forgiveness?” He lets out a short, derisive chuckle and takes a step forward so they’re nearly chest to chest. “You don’t get to do that,” he seethes. “You don’t get her back. You don’t get to hurt her anymore.”

“Stop acting like you know her!” Sollux yells, throwing his hands into the air. He shoves Eridan hard in the chest, and he stumbles back, and Aradia reaches out retroactively but someone has pushed their way in front of her anyway. “ _I_ was her best friend for ten years, okay? Don’t pretend you mean just as much to her when you _don’t_!”

And that does it. Aradia’s pushing forward as quickly as she can, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, but Eridan’s hauled off and punched Sollux square in the nose before she can do anything.

There’s blood. It’s not much, but it’s there, and when Sollux straightens back up, clutching his nose, he doesn’t waste any time returning the blow. Eridan dodges, but it catches him on the side of the head, and Sollux goes back in for another in the gut.

Aradia loses track of it at that point. All she knows is that she’s frozen for a minute and she can’t look away while the crowd that’s gathered cheers them on, and there are grunts and cracks and so many swinging fists, and she can’t look away no matter how much she wants to.

Then Eridan goes down.

It’s so quick she can barely see it, but Sollux kneed him somewhere low, and then all of a sudden Eridan has fallen back on the dirty linoleum and is curled up clutching his abdomen and the sight is enough to unfreeze Aradia and she’s dropped to her knees next to him before Sollux can get in another blow.

“Stop it!” she screams at him and she doesn’t know who she’s angrier at but what she does know is that Eridan is in pain and there’s blood crusting on his lips and she has to get him out of here.

“What the hell are you doing, aa?” Sollux says but she doesn’t listen to him, doesn’t even look at him, just slings Eridan’s arm over her shoulder and pulls him up into her arms.

“Eridan?” she whispers. He’s looking at her with half-dazed eyes clouded with pain but at least he’s conscious. There’s a bruise forming around one eye and his lip is split in three different places, but he still manages to smile up at her.

“Hey, Ar,” he says.

“You’re an _idiot,_ ” she murmurs.

“I know.”

She helps him stand, his arm still around her shoulders. There are whispers coming from the crowd, and they’re staring at Eridan and Aradia with wide eyes, but Aradia can’t find enough emotion left to care.

“What are you _doing_ , aa?” Sollux asks again. His voice is a mixture of confusion and resentment and anger. “Are you choosing him over me?”

She’s not taking sides. She’s not trying to, at least. But if she was, she realizes, she would pick Eridan.

It’s a realization so sudden and shocking that she almost crumples under Eridan’s weight. She’d pick Eridan over Sollux. Sollux, the boy who’s been her best friend for as long as she can remember, who she’s loved for nearly as long as that.

But it _is_ Eridan who’s more important to her, she thinks. He’s the one she could never give up. Maybe it’s because she’s seen a life without Sollux, and she’s survived it, and only because of Eridan. Or maybe it’s just because he understood her so well. Whatever the reason, she knows instinctually that it’s true.

“Yes,” she says simply, and then leads Eridan away from the circle of bloodthirsty spectators as gently as she can and doesn’t turn back.


	12. i'm not sure if it matters

_This has been said so many times that I’m not sure if it matters_  
 _But it must be said again_  
-Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows)

This is the worst headache he’s ever had. Worse than any hangover, worse than any migraine. This is a continuous bursting pressure hammering from just behind his right eye, and he doesn’t have to look in a mirror to know that his cheek is probably turning purple and yellow.

His mouth is sore and his lips taste of salt and iron. Grudgingly, Eridan has to admit that Sollux hits hard and fights well. He’d almost admire his wiry strength if he didn’t hate him so much.

“That was stupid, Eridan,” Aradia says softly. She doesn’t sound mad, but she seems deflated, as if she’d been physically involved in the fight too. “You shouldn’t have kept arguing.”

“Did you want him to keep hangin’ around you like that?”

“Maybe not,” she says, “but I didn’t want you getting involved, either. I could have dealt with him. We just stopped arguing—I don’t want to alienate him completely.”

It shouldn’t sting, but it does. Eridan knows she doesn’t mean it to be hurtful but it sounds like she regrets it—regrets walking away from Sollux like that, especially with him.

Maybe it shows in his face, because Aradia sighs and stops walking. “Eridan,” she says. Her voice sounds strange, choked up in her throat, and his stomach drops like it’s in freefall. “Listen. I chose _you._ ”

“Chose me?” he repeats, confused.

She smiles at him, and it’s so sweet and beautiful that he almost feels faint. “Yes,” she tells him. “Back there, I chose you. I couldn’t just leave you there and run over to Sollux. And before that, too, I chose you over him. Over everyone. And I still do.”

He has to kiss her then. The hallway echoes with faraway shouts, but it’s empty, and neither of them would care if it wasn’t. Her lips are soft against the cuts and bruises covering his face.

“Let’s skip,” he breathes when they break apart.

Her eyes are slightly glazed, and she answers “what?” somewhat dazedly, as if she’s still trying to collect her thoughts.

“Let’s cut last period,” he tells her. “It’s just that stupid homecomin’ pep rally anyway.”

He takes it as a testament to his incredible kissing prowess that she agrees so readily without even a hint of an argument.

The hallways are mostly deserted as they make their way to the front of the school, hand in hand. The few people they do pass are all flowing in the other direction, towards the gym, and nobody notices them. It’s almost insultingly easy to sneak past the security guard and out the glass doors to Eridan’s car.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks her.

Aradia thinks for a while, and then says “Somewhere we can talk.”

“The coffee shop?” he suggests.

She grins up at him. “Yeah. Good idea.”

The drive there is short, and when they get to the shop, it’s nearly empty. There are a couple hippies sipping from huge mugs in the back, smelling of sweat and clove cigarettes, and a lone black-clothed girl writing at one of the high-topped tables. The bored-looking barista perks up slightly when they walk in and sets aside his music magazine.

“You order for me,” Aradia says. “I’ll get us a table.”

When he returns to her with tall, foaming lattes, she’s gotten them two seats at the high counter running against one wall. She smiles softly and beckons him towards the stool next to her.

“You like it black, right?” he asks as he sets down the mugs.

She laughs. “Oh, you remembered.”

There’s a silence then that stretches for a few awkward minutes while they sip their coffee, until it gets too long, and Eridan has to break it.

“So.”

“So?” Aradia repeats playfully.

“What are we doing, Ar?”

Her expression falls, and her face grows serious. “What do you mean, what are we doing?” she asks.

“I mean you an’ me, an’ Sol an’ Fef an’ everythin’. How is all of this gonna end up?” he questions. It’s not just directed at her—it’s a question for him, too, and a question for the world at large. He has no idea what’s going to happen, and he’s scared about it, and he can see that Aradia is, too.

When she finally speaks again, she does it slowly, as if she has to carefully pick out every word. “I have no idea,” she answers. “I really don’t, Eridan, and I wish I did. But what I do know is that I like you. A lot.”

She sighs and stares down into her coffee. “Honestly, I like you so much that it scares me sometimes. But I don’t want to give it up for anything. So no, I’m not sure what’s going to happen to any of us. I hope whatever happens, though—I want us to stay together.”

Eridan can’t see her face very well—her head is bent, and her curly hair is falling over one shoulder to hide most of her expression—but her voice is expressive enough. Aradia’s voice is a mixture of sadness and wistfulness and painful amounts of truth with just enough hope to uplift her words.

“I hope that’s what you want, too,” she continues, almost to herself. “I hope this isn’t just all in my head.”

“It’s not,” he says quickly. “It’s not, I promise. I know exactly what you’re talkin’ about, an’ I wanna hold on to this, too. You’re the best thing about this whole damn town, Ar.”

She looks up, tossing her hair back, and smiles almost shyly at him. “Thanks, Eridan.”

“It’s true, though,” he says, gaining more confidence. “I thought that thing with Fef was love, y’know? For the longest fuckin’ time I was so sure I was totally in love with her, and that’s what true love felt like and all that shit. But it wasn’t. It was all based off hurt an’ longin’ an’ jealousy, an’ it wasn’t healthy for me. For either of us, really, cause look what happened to our friendship. The feelin’s where the same under everythin’, I think, but it just hurt. But with you—Ar, it’s different with you. Everythin’ is different. An’ this is probably gonna come out cheesy as fuck, but god, when I’m with you I can’t get close enough and when I’m not I just can’t stop wonderin’ about you—about what you’re doin’ and how you’re feelin’ an’ everythin’. But it’s in a good way. No hurt, no jealousy. An’ it’s just so incredible, to have somethin’ this good an’ pure. I’ve never had anythin’ like it before.”

He stops to take a breath and a sip of coffee. He can’t bring himself to look up at her yet.

“Basically, I can’t let this go, okay? I’m not lettin’ you go.”

“Oh, Eridan,” says Aradia in a choked voice, and he has to look up then. To his shock, her eyes are misty with tears.

“You’re incredible,” she whispers fiercely. She covers his hand with her own. “God. Just—thank you. For telling me all of that, and for trusting me. I—I’m honestly lost here. Help me out.”

“Okay. Repeat after me,” Eridan says, and grins at her, tilting her chin up with one hand. “I am not goin’ to break up with Eridan Ampora.”

“I am not going to break up with Eridan Ampora.”

“I am goin’ to agree to be Eridan Ampora’s girlfriend, an’ I am goin’ to finish my coffee an’ then go back to my boyfriend’s place an’ watch shitty movies with Eridan.”

“I’m Eridan Ampora’s girlfriend,” she giggles, “and we’re going to drink coffee and then watch shitty movies together and cuddle.”

“An’ I’m goin’ to go to homecomin’ with Eridan Ampora.”

“Homecoming?” She raises an eyebrow.

 “It’s a high school rite a’ passage, ain’t it?”

She thinks about it for a minute, but Eridan can see she’s already made up her mind. “Fine,” she laughs. “We can go to stupid homecoming together.”

“Hell yeah.” He grins, and it makes Aradia laugh and rest her head on his shoulder.

There’s another silence then, one that stretches on comfortably and tranquilly while they watch the leaves drift past and skitter on the sidewalk outside the window. Then Aradia breaks it, her eyes still focused on the dancing foliage.

“Your friendship isn’t ruined, you know,” she says softly.

Eridan twists to look down at her. “What do you mean?”

“You and Feferi,” she specifies. “She still loves you a lot. Maybe not in the way you wanted her to, but still, in a way that’s definitely important. You’re still her best friend.”

He laughs ruefully. “I dunno, Ar. That’s nice an’ all, but I’m pretty sure I fucked up everythin’ with that stupid fuckin’ declaration a’ mine.”

“But you _didn_ ’ _t,_ ” she protests earnestly. “She said so herself.”

“When were you talkin’ to Fef?”

“This morning, actually,” she tells him. “I saw her in the bathroom. She’s actually really happy we’re together.”

“Really?” he asks, barely daring to believe her. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Aradia—of course he does—it’s just that he’s been so convinced that his friendship with Feferi is completely broken for such a long time that it’s hard to think otherwise.

Aradia puts her hand on the small of his back and starts rubbing slowly, calming him. “She’s glad for both of us,” she murmurs. “The only vaguely negative thing she had to say is that she doesn’t want me to hurt you—which I’d never want to happen, anyway. I wish Sollux had taken the news half as well.”

Her voice has turned slightly bitter at the end, but Eridan’s heart is the lightest it’s been in what seems like forever. He’d thought he’d lost Feferi forever after his fuck-up, and now not only did he have an untarnished, hope-filled new relationship with an incredible girl, but he’s got his best friend back, too. Suddenly, everything’s turning out right.

“God, this is so _perfect,_ ” he exclaims, still shocked. “I have to talk to her.”

“Now?” Aradia asks.

He shakes his head. “No. Not now. Right now, I’m with you.”

She smiles, and Eridan forgets about Feferi. He forgets about everything that isn’t the girl sitting next to him. There are still problems, of course. Eridan knows it’s not like everything’s suddenly perfect. There’s still Sollux, who lingers at the back of his mind and is probably at the forefront of Aradia’s. There’s the matter of how both their friends are going to react—Vriska in particular isn’t going to be happy at all. But right now, he pushes all those thoughts away. He doesn’t want to think about anything that doesn’t have to do with Aradia, and how when he’s with her, the whole world looks shiny and new and takes on a rose-pink tinge. She does things to his brain, he thinks, but somehow he can’t bring himself to really mind.

*

They end up in his car after they finish their coffee. It’s started raining while they were inside, and they have to dash towards it as fast as they can, Eridan’s scarf held over their heads as some scant measure of protection. It does absolutely nothing to help, and they tumble into his car dripping wet and laughing their asses off.

Eridan blasts the heat as soon as he can get his shit together. Aradia pulls the curtains of wet hair out of her eyes and wring it out onto the floor, staring out the windshield and shivering slightly.

“I’d offer you my scarf, but I don’t think it’d be much help,” jokes Eridan.

Aradia giggles. “I appreciate the offer.”

He doesn’t mind the weather, even if the rain messed up the hair he’d taken forever doing that morning. It taps out a comforting, steady rhythm on the roof of the car as they drive.

“Where to?” he asks her.

She thinks for a moment, and then says “I believe you owe me some shitty movies and cuddles.”

“Your place, then?”

Aradia makes a face. “My mother and Damara are home. No offense, but I don’t know if I want you to meet them yet.”

Eridan’s curious about her family, but from what he’s heard about them from her, he doesn’t think he’s ready to meet them either. But he’s not sure whether Cronus is home, and if he is, he’s definitely sure he doesn’t want his brother around Aradia. At least he doesn’t have to worry about his father. At this time of day, he’s still in the city, working at his big fancy desk in his glass-walled office in that skyscraper his company owns.

“Is your house okay?” she asks quietly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go there. We can find something else to do.”

“No, it’s okay,” says Eridan hastily.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not really. Just—“ he lets out a long breath of air, trying to think about something else. “My dad. It’s not a big deal.”

He realizes too late that he’s never talked about his family with Aradia before. Not _really_ ; nothing past the watered-down version that first night at the diner, where she found out about Cronus. But really, Cronus is just an annoyance. It’s nothing compared to the still-raw abandonment he feels when the subject of his father comes up.

“What about him?” she asks. Her voice is gentle, and he can feel her gaze on him even though he’s staring hard at the raindrops splattering against the road.

“Nothin’,” he mutters. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Eridan—“

“Can we drop it?”

Aradia slumps back and stares out the windshield too, clamping her mouth shut. Eridan immediately feels bad. It’s not like he doesn’t want to tell her about it—he wants to tell Aradia everything about him, and he knows that she’ll listen. But Fef is the only person in the world that he’s had this talk with, and it was incredibly hard for both of them that time. The day had already been clouded with too much heaviness; Eridan isn’t going to add more.

“You’ll meet him sometime,” he forces out eventually. “Then you’ll understand.”

Cronus’s car isn’t parked outside the house when they pull up, but there’s a black Rolls Royce that looks vaguely familiar in the garage. Maybe he’d finally broken down and traded in his decades-old piece of shit; there’s a certain point where being a living ‘50s throwback just becomes illogical and unsustainable, Eridan thinks, and trying to drive a barely working relic of a Corvette is one of them.

“This place is massive,” Aradia says, gawking at his house. Eridan usually feels a surge of pride at his family’s wealth whenever somebody says something like that, but now, he just feels embarrassment. Compared to Aradia’s house, it’s a fortress, way too big for two teenage boys and a father who’s barely ever home anyway.

“It’s too big,” he says dismissively. “I get lost sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. How many floors does this thing have?”

“Are we counting the refurbished basement?”

She laughs, but it’s a tight sound, a little envious. “You know what, never mind.”

Eridan opens his car door and steps out. “Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

The first thing Eridan notices when they step inside the entryway is the strange silence. If Cronus was home, he’d be blasting music or a movie or something at full volume. But the only noise Eridan can hear is a far-off voice.

Maybe he’s got someone over, he thinks. Maybe he finally found a girl desperate and horny enough to put up with him, and they’ll keep to themselves in whatever corner of the house the poor girl is getting mauled in.

“You want something to eat?” he asks Aradia, trying to gloss over the moment even though they’d just had lunch an hour ago.

“Popcorn,” she says. “If we’re watching a movie, we need popcorn.”

“Good idea.” Eridan takes her hand and leads her into the kitchen.

It should have been a warning sign that the voice grew louder and deeper as they approached the kitchen, and not farther away like it would have if it was coming from Cronus’s room. It should have been another warning that the house smells like smoke, when Eridan knows that Cronus has never lit one of his damn cigarettes in his life. But still, he’s stunned into silence when they round the corner into the cavernous kitchen to find his dad breezing around, talking into his phone in a loud, angry voice while he rummages through the refrigerator.

He doesn’t notice them at first, which is no fucking surprise. It’s only when Eridan can compose himself enough to ask “Dad, what are you doing here?” that he spins around and closes the fridge.

“I’ll call you back in five, Scratch,” he says abruptly, and pockets the phone. “Eridan?”

He’s looking at Eridan like a teacher stares at a student when they don’t know them too well, as if they’re trying to remember anything memorable about them, whether they’re supposed to like them or not. He doesn’t even acknowledge Aradia, even though her hand is still tight around Eridan’s.

“Why are you here?” Eridan asks, not bothering to even try to disguise the annoyance in his voice. “It’s two thirty. On a Monday afternoon. Don’t you have shit to do in the city?”

“Yes,” his dad says distractedly. Eridan can see his hand itching back towards his cell phone. “I’ve got plenty of things to do. I’m a busy man, Eridan, don’t hold me up.”

Aradia’s clinging to his hand tensely, and he glances down. She’s staring at her shoes, trying to avoid anyone’s gaze as if she feels excluded from the scene.

“Dad, this is Aradia,” Eridan tries loudly. “She’s my girlfriend.”

His dad glances up from his phone for the barest of moments to peer at Aradia. “Okay,” he says. “I’ve got to go, Eridan. I might be back tomorrow night. The AmEx is up in your room, order whatever you want for dinner.”

“Dad!” Eridan shouts, but he’s already dialed someone else and is shooting words into his stupid phone while he hurries back out the door.

He feels a rush of anger, and he wants to run after his father, to grab him and make him come back and act like a damn parent for once in his life. But he hears the garage door slam closed and knows that he’s gone, back to the city and his high-rise and elegant, expensive life full of money and city women.

As the anger slowly recedes, he realizes that Aradia’s still holding onto his hand, and she’s watching him with a worried expression.

“Eridan?”

He pulls his hand out of hers’ and turns away, towards the kitchen cabinet. “Great fucking guy, isn’t he?” he spits.

“I’m sorry,” Aradia says helplessly while he rummages for a box of popcorn.

He finds it a moment later and slams the door shut. “Don’t be. Not your fault that he doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

She doesn’t move towards him. He’s not sure if he wants her to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

The sound of popcorn popping fills the room. Each noise is like a gunshot in the empty silence.

Aradia’s staring at him with confused, wounded eyes, and he feels terrible, because he hurt her, he did that to her, and he promised himself he’d _never_ do that to her. But he can’t do anything about it. If he opens his mouth again, he’ll just spew more venom directed at his father and Aradia will be caught in the crossfire.

The microwave beeps into the silence. He doesn’t move. He’s frozen, halfway between Aradia and the microwave and not able to move an inch either way.

She’s the one who finally breaks the tense standoff, moving towards the microwave and taking the popcorn out.

“Stop it,” she says. “Don’t take it out on me, okay? I know what it feels like—all that anger, all that hurt—I know how it feels to be abandoned by someone who’s supposed to protect you. And I know how bad it sucks. But don’t take it out on me. Talk to me about it if you have to. But this day’s already been fucked up enough, so please don’t do this. Not now.”

Eridan opens his mouth, but he can’t seem to form any words. His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth.

But Aradia must see something in his eyes, because she puts down the bowl and wraps her arms around him and presses her face into his still-damp shirt. She says “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” and Eridan finally unfreezes enough to put his arms around her, too.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” he says. “I fucked up again, didn’t I?”

“Not too badly,” she says into his shirt.

He makes himself smile, even though he knows she can’t see it. “Good. That means we can still fix it.”

*

Eridan lets Aradia pick the movie. Predictably, she hands him their old copy of _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,_ which isn’t exactly that romantic, but it’s not a bad movie either. Eridan knows Aradia’s seen it about a thousand times already, but she still looks completely fascinated by the opening sequence, staring at the screen wide-eyed.

“I haven’t seen this since like fifth grade,” he tells her.

“That sucks,” she answers absently, not looking away from the screen. “It’s a really great movie.”

And it’s a really shitty date movie, he thinks morosely. Aradia could be halfway across the world in the fucking Temple of Doom for all the attention she’s paying him.

Still, it’s kind of cute watching Aradia watch the movie. Her already-exaggerated emotions are amplified by what’s happening on the screen, and her expressions react accordingly, gasping and laughing and grinning at the crappy special effects flashing across the TV. Eridan eventually loses track of what’s even happening to Indiana Jones and figures it out from Aradia’s face.

She notices after a while and turns to him. “Are you staring at me?” she asks.

Eridan smirks. “So what if I am?”

“But why?”

“Your face is funny,” he tells her.

She sticks her tongue out. “ _Your_ stupid face is funny.”

It shouldn’t make him laugh, but it does, and she laughs too, and she’s finally looked away from the damn movie and is falling back into him, tucking her head under his chin and curling up. She’s warm— _really_ warm, like a space heater.

“Finally,” Eridan sighs under his breath.

Aradia looks up. “What?”

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to stop payin’ attention to goddamn Indiana Jones an’ remember that I exist all afternoon.”

“Of course I remember you exist, silly,” she says, and throws a piece of popcorn at his face. It hits him right between his eyes.

Then she leans up and kisses him, and neither of them pay any attention to Indiana Jones for the rest of the movie.

*

“You just wanted to get me into your bedroom, didn’t you?”

Eridan can tell that she’s supposed to be joking, but underneath it, Aradia’s nervous. Her eyes are darting around the room quickly, not staying on any one thing for too long and completely avoiding the bed.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna try anythin’, Ar,” he tells her. “What kind a guy do you think I am?”

Her bravado is slipping, and his heart sinks. This was his worst idea all day. All he’d wanted to do was get out of the living room before Cronus got home, maybe show Aradia his CD collection or something, but now he can see that this room is literally the worst place they could go. It’s not that he’s not into Aradia like that—because God, he is, he really fucking is and that’s just making it even worse. It’s like the bed is taking up the entire room, and all he can think  about is what’s happened already on that bed and what _could_ happen and meanwhile Aradia is inching towards the door, looking frightened and completely out of her depth.

“I’ve never—“ she says, and stops. “I mean…have you?”

“Have I what?”

She bites her lip, and it’s so familiar and known and yet strangely sexy and so completely Aradia. “Had sex,” she says.

He can’t lie to her. He doesn’t want to tell her the truth, but he isn’t going to lie to her about it. “Yeah,” he tells her.

Aradia looks down at her feet and says “Oh. Guess I should’ve known that already.”

“It was only a couple a times,” he says hurriedly, tripping over his own words in his rush to get them out. “They were never serious. The first time, it was Fef’s big sister Meenah—oh god, that was such a mistake. She was hot an’ experienced an’ I was just fifteen an’ I had no idea what I was doing. It wasn’t fun for either of us.”

“Who else?” she says softly.

He considers lying. He almost tells her there wasn’t anyone else, that it was just that one brief, confusing night with Meenah, but he knows he can’t do that if this is going to work. She’ll find out sooner or later.

“Vris,” he sighs.

To his utter shock, Aradia begins to laugh—actually _laugh_ , full peals of laughter erupting from her mouth until she nearly doubles over. “You slept with _Vriska Serket_?” she gasps out in disbelief.

“What’s so funny about that?” he mutters.

Aradia sobers up and manages to shrug. “I didn’t know anybody could survive that,” she says. “I kind of assumed she bit off her ex-boyfriends’ heads. Like a spider or something. How the hell did you get her to fall for you?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he tells her. “We’ve always hated each others’ guts. We still do. Vris has never fallen for anyone in her life.”

“That’s so strange,” she mumbles.

Eridan knows that already. He’s always thought what happened between him and Vriska was fucking weird. But he still nods and says “It didn’t work out. It wasn’t even a thing in the first place, really.”

This is absolutely the last place he wanted the conversation to go on what was technically still a second date, but somehow, it’s loosened the awkwardness just enough, and Aradia gingerly sits down on his desk chair.

“That’s it?” she asks.

He nods. “That’s it.”

“That’s actually not as bad as I expected,” says Aradia. “From what I’d heard…I guess I shouldn’t trust rumors so much.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ womanizer or somethin’,” he protests. “Really, I’m—I don’t know that much about it. I was always just Fef’s not-boyfriend boy friend. Girls weren’t into me.”

He thinks he catches a smirk flit across her face, but it’s gone quickly. “Guess you got lucky, then,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says. “Guess I did.”

It’s not so awkward from then on out. Aradia finds his CD rack and freaks out, then takes forever to pick which one to listen to. They end up pausing it anyway when she comes across his guitar and begs him to play it. Eridan sucks at it—he hasn’t had it out in a few months, at least, and he was never that good to begin with—but he stumbles through a shitty cover of _Wonderwall_ and Aradia blushes and claps and tells him he’s good at singing, and she has no idea how to play guitar either.

Ironically, they end up on his bed after all, legs tangled together underneath an old afghan while they listen to Snow Patrol. It’s nice and safe and really not sexual at all, but the sparks are still there, an undertone running between their bodies where they touch instead of an overwhelming burst like it had been before. Aradia tucks her head into the crook of his neck again, her chin digging into his collarbone and her cold toes pressed against his calf and her hair tickling his nose, and it’s perfect. It’s a fucking movie moment. Eridan imagines how they’d look from above, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushed, blanket threaded through their legs and the music swells and he lets himself think those words for the first time ever about her. And it doesn’t hurt. It scares him, but in a good way, in the best way possible.

He doesn’t say them, but he thinks them as loud as he can. Aradia curls a little closer to him and sighs. Maybe she heard them, Eridan thinks, and it doesn’t seem so crazy, or maybe it does. He can’t find the will to care. It’s buried somewhere beneath cold autumn nights and dark car rides and cups of coffee and Weezer CDs and shitty movies and confessions and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 more chapter )))':


	13. i swear, i say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry about not updating on time. funny enough, i was actually seeing fall out boy, which is of course the band that inspired the whole fic.  
> with that aside, this is the last chapter. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

_It starts eyes closed,_   
_To fingers crossed,_   
_To “I swear, I say”_

_-XO_

Aradia remembers why she doesn’t wear dresses.

She tugs at the clingy red fabric, trying to smooth it down over her skin, but it’s too tight at the arms and too loose around the waist. It looks fine on her; Nepeta had helped her pick it out, since Aradia couldn’t care less about what she wore. The dress isn’t bad as far as dresses go. It’s just that—well, it’s a _dress._

She has no idea why she agreed to this. She should have just told Eridan no; homecoming wasn’t her thing, and she’d had no intention of going before they started dating. But somehow, it seems fitting. They’re basically living a teenage romantic comedy now, and Aradia has a morbid fascination with the last high school stereotype they hadn’t checked off the list.

Still, she wonders, is this dress really necessary?

There’s a knock on her bedroom door, and Aradia spins around, letting her skirt drop back down to her knees. Her hands fly to the sopping-wet mess that is her hair. Eridan can’t be _this_ early. He isn’t supposed to be here for another hour—

The door swings open, and to her shock, it’s not Eridan standing there but Damara.

“Hello,” she says in heavily-accented but perfect English. She looks oddly subdued—softer somehow, not fiery and angry like she usually is.

“Hi, Damara,” Aradia answers cautiously.

Damara takes a few steps in, shutting the door behind her, and walks up to Aradia.

“Do you need help with your hair?”

“What?” Aradia splutters.

Her older sister rolls her eyes and mutters something in Japanese under her breath. “Hair,” she says slowly, like Aradia’s the one who speaks in a foreign tongue, not her. “It’s a fucking disaster.”

“Yeah, I was getting to that,” Aradia grumbles.

Damara curses again and pushes Aradia down into the chair in front of her dresser. Aradia blinks at her reflection, wide-eyed and confused.

“This might hurt,” Damara says, and then rips half of Aradia’s hair out of her head.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like. Aradia winces and gnaws on her lower lip, and it does get better after a little while, and she closes her eyes, pretending she’s somewhere else. Preferably somewhere with Eridan and no dresses.

Damara settles into a rhythm, and she even starts humming after ten minutes, her attacks on Aradia’s thicket of hair becoming gentler. It’s even relaxing at times, her thin, bony hands lifting and twisting and pinning chunks of Aradia’s locks deftly.

Finally, she steps back, and Aradia opens her eyes. But she doesn’t look at her hair straight away. Instead, she notices that Damara is smiling—actually _smiling_ —at her in the mirror over the curly mass atop Aradia’s head, her red lips curved into the slightest of grins.

And her hair looks gorgeous. Damara had pulled all but a few wisps away from her face and masterfully pinned it into a high, messy bun, curls cascading down to sweep her neck. Aradia has no idea where Damara learned to do it or what inspired this sudden act of sisterliness, but she isn’t going to complain.

“Makeup,” Damara says brusquely, erasing the smile from her face as soon as she catches Aradia’s eye in the reflection. “I’ll do it. You looked like a street whore last time.”

Aradia opens her mouth to protest, but thinks better of it when Damara sweeps out of the room. She isn’t going to be the one to break this sudden truce, and besides, Damara is maybe a little bit right.

Getting her makeup done is torture. Damara does _everything_ —face, nails, god knows what else—and it takes just about forever. Aradia keeps fidgeting, prompting Damara to start swearing at her in Japanese again, but at the end it’s worth it. Aradia certainly couldn’t have done any of it on her own. It looks a hell of a lot better than that night at that horrible party, for sure.

“Thank you,” she tells Damara when she’s done, smiling at her tentatively.

Damara pulls her up by the shoulders and gives Aradia a nod of approval. “Good,” she says. “You will break that boy’s heart.”

“I hope not,” Aradia says.

Then Damara does what may be the strangest thing she’s done all night. She pulls Aradia in for a short, stiff hug, her arms tense around Aradia’s bare shoulders. “Do not end up like me,” she whispers harshly.

Before Aradia can answer, she pulls away, her face strangely blank. The doorbell rings, and Aradia takes a step towards the door, but Damara pushes her back, not forcefully.

“I will get it,” she tells Aradia. “Do not seem too eager.”

Which is a pretty stupid thing to say, considering it’s Eridan, but Damara doesn’t know Eridan like Aradia does. She lets her sister get the door.  There are hushed voices, and then Damara calls her name.

Aradia takes a deep breath, a sudden feeling of nervousness sweeping over her, which is stupid—it’s Eridan, after all. She knows Eridan.

Still, her hands are trembling, and she has to clutch the wall on the way to the stairs.

Eridan’s standing in the living room with Damara when she walks down the stairs. He looks uncomfortable, but not scared or angry, and Damara doesn’t look too hostile—thank God. He spins around to face her at the loud clunk of her shoe on the first step.

“Hi, Eridan,” she says, waving.

She’s never actually seen someone’s jaw drop before, but Eridan is coming very close to doing just that. His eyes grow wide, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his face.

He looks really nice. His suit is black and looks expensive, and he’s got a tie in his favorite shade of purple around his neck instead of his customary scarf. He’d done something with his hair to slick it back, the purple streak lying flat now, and he’s holding a massive bouquet of red carnations.

“I got you flowers,” he says helplessly when Aradia reaches the bottom.

Aradia giggles and takes the bouquet he thrusts at her, then hands it to Damara so she can throw her arms around his neck. She plants a kiss on his cheek.

“Hi, Eridan,” she laughs.

He relaxes into her arms. “Hey, Ar,” he answers. “God, you look gorgeous.”

“It was all Damara,” Aradia tells him, and when he raises an eyebrow, she says “I’m just as surprised as you are. Shall we go get this over with?”

Damara doesn’t say anything while Eridan leads Aradia out to his car, his hand warm in hers’, but she stands on the porch watching as they pull out of the driveway. Her face is completely unreadable, but if Aradia had to guess, she’d say her expression was closest to being wistful.

For once, Eridan isn’t playing music in the car. The silence is weird—not bad or uncomfortable, just odd. “Did your stereo break?” asks Aradia.

Eridan shakes his head. “Nah. Just couldn’t find the right song for tonight.”

When they pull up to the school, it’s lit from the inside out with dimly-glowing strobes, purple, green and red flowing into the darkness and then disappearing as quickly as a lightning strike. The parking lot is empty save a few stragglers, eyes caked with makeup and dresses fluttering in the breeze.

“I think we’re late,” says Eridan.

Aradia takes his hand. “We better hurry, then,” she tells him, and starts running.

They’re both laughing by the time they reach the doors to the gym, breathless from both the sprint and the deep belly laughs that won’t stop coming from either of their throats. Aradia leans against Eridan for support, and they eventually stop shaking, and she reaches up to fix his tie and then kisses the hollow of his throat and then his lips before she pushes the door open.

It’s dark and sweaty and cavernous and loud, the walls vibrating with the heavy bass, so loud Aradia can feel it in the pit of her stomach. The room is a mass of brightly-colored dresses like wilting spring flowers and skin on skin, cans of Coke clutched in sweaty hands, discarded high heels lining the walls. It’s just as unappealing as Aradia knew it would be.

“Okay, we came and we saw,” she tells Eridan. “Can we go now?”

He puffs out his bottom lip, and it should look immature, it definitely shouldn’t be cute, but it somehow is. “I spent a whole twenty dollars on these,” he says, waving the tickets in front of her face. “An’ we still gotta conquer, don’t we?”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles all the same. “Then let’s conquer quick, Caesar.”

They start by skirting around the edges of the gym, not immediately plunging into the writhing mass of dancers, but then Eridan sees someone he thinks might be Kanaya and the DJ starts playing a good song and they inevitably get sucked into the swirling vortex of the dance floor. It’s fast-paced and crushing, but kind of fun, in an unusual way that Aradia didn’t think she’d like. She’s not much of a dancer. She loves the music, but the movement aspect makes her self-conscious. But she actually likes it out here, in the dim-lit anonymity of the dance floor where nobody else can tell anyone apart and nobody really cares. The music takes priority over everything else—self-consciousness, nervousness, unhappiness. The only thing that keeps Aradia tethered to reality is Eridan: his hand in hers’, or his arm brushing her shoulder, or his gentle touch on her waist. She thinks that without him, she might float away entirely.

It’s good. It’s exactly what she needs to wash out months of anxiety and stress, to sacrifice it all to the melodies and the movements, where it will be trampled by pounding feet and shaking bass. All that’s left are the good things—Eridan and his smile and how reassuring it is to feel his hand at her elbow.

They tire out eventually, of course, and extract themselves from the dancing to rest against the wall next to the door and watch. Aradia puts her head on Eridan’s shoulder and closes her eyes.

A few minutes later, his voice rumbles in his chest. “Hey, Fef,” he says, and Aradia feels his arm shift to wrap around her waist. She looks up.

Feferi is standing in front of them, alone but glowing and happy, her skin caramel against her fuchsia dress. She’s got a huge, typical Feferi grin plastered across her face.

“Hi, Eridan! Hi, Aradia!” she answers. “I had no idea you guys would be here!”

“Neither did I,” Aradia mutters, but she’s surprised to find that she doesn’t mind the dance so much anymore.

“Are you here together?” asks Feferi, and then barrels on without waiting for an answer. “I mean, of course you are, right? I’m _so_ glad things worked out for you two. I’m alone—the thing with Sollux kind of fell through, obviously.” A quick flash of sadness and longing breaks through the grin for a brief second, and Aradia can suddenly see just how much she _does_ miss Sollux, and how hard it must be on her. But Feferi shakes it off quickly. “I’m still having fun, though,” she tells them. “And I really am so happy for both of you.”

Eridan pulls his arm back from around Aradia’s waist, and she watches as he embraces Feferi tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head. She doesn’t mind. She knows it’s not something she needs to get jealous or anxious about. Eridan and Feferi is a completely different entity than Eridan and Aradia, with completely different emotions involved. And besides, when Eridan pulls back, he snakes both arms around Aradia and bends down to kiss the top of her hair before waving goodbye to Feferi.

She bounces back into the crowd, bubbly and effeminate as always, and Aradia watches her go almost fondly. She really isn’t so bad, now that Aradia’s done wasting all her energy being jealous.

“I’m gonna go get somethin’ to drink,” Eridan tells her, giving her wrist a reassuring squeeze. “It’s so fuckin’ hot in here. You want anythin’?”

“I’m fine,” says Aradia. “I think I’ll stay here and watch.”

Eridan nods and kisses her quickly, no more than a peck, but it still sends those sparks fizzing like sparkling champagne through her bloodstream and she leans back against the wall for support. “Be right back,” he says with that typical, cocky Eridan smirk.

Aradia sighs and twists her hands in the fabric of her skirt as she watches him go. The feeling is still lingering in her veins, and she doesn’t think it’s going away any time soon.

It scares her sometimes—how fast she’s falling. With Sollux, it had been a slow, gradual slide over three or four years, something that she’d always known was there even if she couldn’t name it. But with Eridan, it’s more like sudden freefall, tumbling off a cliff rather than rolling down a hill. It’s fast, and it’s terrifying, and it’s such an incredible rush.

And what’s going to happen when she hits the bottom?

Aradia turns her eyes to the crowd, trying to banish the thought from her mind. It’s full of people she recognizes, but it takes her a few minutes to spot any of her friends. When she does, she almost wishes she hadn’t.

Sollux is dancing at the edge of the mass of people closest to her. Tavros and Nepeta are with him, Nepeta grinning and dancing exuberantly, Tavros watching her from his wheelchair, and to Aradia’s surprise Terezi is holding on to Sollux’s arm. She looks almost happy.

Aradia definitely hadn’t seen that one coming. She doesn’t realize she’d been staring at them until Sollux looks over his shoulder and catches her gaze.

He says something to Tavros, Nepeta and Terezi, and Terezi lets go of his arm and then he starts walking over to her, not breaking eye contact. Aradia feels like she’s frozen in place. She can’t move, but she doesn’t want to fight with him again, not here, not now, on a night she was almost beginning to enjoy. And all hell will break loose if Eridan comes back.

He’s there in front of her too soon, before she can think of what to do or even anything to say.

“Hey, aa,” he says.

Aradia opens her mouth, but before she can form any words, Sollux is rushing to speak. “Listen,” he says. “Hear me out. Please, aa. Don’t shut me out again.”

“You already pulled that shit once,” she reminds him.

“And now I’m doing it again. I’m sorry, okay? I’m not sorry for being mad, but I’m sorry for making you mad.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asks tiredly.

Sollux scans the crowd, and Aradia wonders if he’s looking out for Eridan. “I was immature. He was, too, but I know we both fucked up and at least I’m admitting it. I don’t need things to go back to normal—I don’t think they can. But what I do need is for you to not shut me completely out of your life because of this. Even if that means accepting that you’re with him.”

“What does that mean?” she asks. “That you’re not going to fight with Eridan again? Because Sollux, if it comes down to you versus him, you know who I’ll have to choose.”

“I don’t want you to have to choose. That’s the point,” he says. “Can’t you have both of us?”

It’s either the best or the worst moment for Eridan to appear out of the crowd, two cans of soda clutched in his hands, his brow immediately furrowed.

“Ar?” he asks, already sounding hostile. “What’s he doing here?”

Sollux turns to look at him, and for a split second, Aradia thinks punches are going to fly again. But instead, Sollux just says “Please don’t hurt her.”

“What the fuck?” says Eridan.

“Listen,” continues Sollux. “I didn’t hurt ff. I took care of her. And now all I’m asking is that you do the same for aa.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, Aradia thinks, but it’s definitely not one that Eridan needs to hear. “You’ve already hurt her more than I ever will, _Sol,_ ” he sneers. “What makes you think you have any right to—“

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Sollux interrupts. “We’re hurting her. Right now.”

It’s possibly the truest thing he’s said all night.

“Just please be careful,” Sollux tells Eridan, almost begging. “You’re not the only one who loves her, okay? And I’m not going to fight with you any more because of her. You win—you can have her. But I swear to god, if you ever hurt her in any way—“

“I’m not going to hurt Ar,” Eridan says coldly, but he doesn’t sound as hostile.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Sollux says. Then he turns to Aradia.

“I’m sorry about everything,” he says sincerely. “I love you. You’re my best friend, aa.”

He sticks out two of his fingers in a sideways V, his eyes hopeful, and Aradia sees a flash of that eager young boy she fell in love with all those years ago, that boy that’s still her best friend in the entire world.

She touches her fingertips to his, completing the diamond, and then hugs him quickly but tightly. “I love you too,” she whispers, and this time, there’s no hidden meaning. It means exactly what both of them think it does.

Sollux doesn’t stay long after that—probably not wanting to push his luck with his new truce with Eridan—and the two of them lean against the wall, drinking their lukewarm flat sodas and not talking because the shitty music is too loud. And it’s not great, but it’s not that bad, because Eridan’s hand is in Aradia’s and she’s not fighting with Sollux and Feferi is actually nice and it just feels like everything is finally okay, especially when she sees Terezi dancing with her head on Sollux’s shoulder.

They watch as Rose crowns Feferi the homecoming queen, which everyone expected, and then Equius the homecoming king, which nobody expected, but they both look happy and when Feferi hugs Equius she lingers for a little too long and they’re both blushing when they pull away. Aradia feels her heart swell with hope.

Then the DJ spins a slow song for them. Feferi reaches up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Equius’ neck, and Terezi puts her head back on Sollux’s shoulder, and Aradia sees Vriska smiling up at John as they sway together in a corner. And it’s perfect, how it all worked out, she thinks. Crazy, but perfect.

“You want to?” asks Eridan, jerking his thumb at the dancefloor.

Aradia shrugs. “Why not.”

She puts her arms around his shoulders and he puts his around her waist and they begin to sway slowly to the beat of the song, the flashing lights catching the highlights of Eridan’s face and making his smile glow, and Aradia kisses him right there on the dancefloor surrounded by her childhood friends because she wants everyone to see. She wants everyone to know that maybe they can all be happy, and it’ll happen eventually, even if it’s strange and crazy and unbelievable. And everything’s different now—everything has changed, but it’s changed for the better.

And when she kisses Eridan, she never wants to move away. She wants to stay glued to that dancefloor forever, where it’s a little too warm and a little too loud and her dress clings to her clammy skin. She wants to stay wherever Eridan is forever.

The song ends too soon. Everyone around them breaks apart, but Aradia keeps her arms around Eridan’s neck, lingering there for as long as she can before she steps back. The music becomes fast-paced again, some shitty pop song that’s easy to dance to and hard to understand, and she pulls him off the dance floor before they’re crushed by the sudden frenzy.

He glances quickly at the door and raises an eyebrow, a silent question visible in his eyes.

“Yeah,” she says. “Let’s get out of here.”

The night air is cold against her clammy skin, fresh from the heat of the crowded gym, but Eridan’s hand is warm in her own and it’s enough to keep her from freezing, no matter how many goosebumps are forming on her bare arms.

They can’t stop touching each other in the dim parking lot, as if they can’t believe they’re real. Aradia’s addicted to those sparks that shoot across her skin whenever he’s there. Everything’s still so new to her—the fact that she can kiss Eridan whenever she wants without repercussions, and that he can too, and that for the first time since she was thirteen there’s absolutely no pain or sadness or longing. She wants to play him stupid love songs and lie in bed with him in the late afternoon and share cups of coffee and scarves and hold hands in the hallway and dance in empty parking lots with him.

“What are you thinking about?” Eridan asks her.

Aradia looks up at him, and his eyes are so beautiful, and they look so purple under this half-lighting.

“How lucky I am,” she says.

He chuckles, and his smile and laugh are every bit as beautiful as his eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be the cheesy one here.”

She grins back. “Screw that.”

Eridan dips her so low that her hair brushes the asphalt and kisses her in that parking lot, and it’s a fucking movie moment. Aradia can nearly hear the teenage rom-com soundtrack playing in the background.

When they get in the car, Eridan refuses to tell her where they’re going. He seems to have a destination in mind, but he’s taking his time getting there; he drives below the speed limit, even when there are cars behind him, and looks at Aradia more than he looks at the road. Main Street is dark and quiet, but not in an eerie sense. Instead, it’s strangely thrilling. It’s as if the world has gone to sleep and Aradia and Eridan are the only ones awake, and they’ve got the whole night all to themselves, every last bit of it.

Finally, he pulls into a faintly familiar parking lot. Aradia doesn’t realize where they are until she sees the hill, dark and silhouetted against the bright full moon, and it clicks.

“The park?” she asks. “Why are we here?”

Eridan smiles a little, shrugs, and turns off the ignition. “It just seemed right.”

It’s cold outside, and the stars are achingly bright. Aradia can’t keep her teeth from chattering. Eridan notices and frowns.

“Are you cold?”

“What gave it away?” she asks.

They both realize what she said simultaneously and laugh, the sound cutting the crisp night air. “I don’t have my scarf this time,” Eridan tells her regretfully. “But here.”

He wiggles out of his suit jacket and drapes it around her shoulders. Aradia wants to protest—he looks so fragile in just his thin white shirt—but as soon as the jacket lands on her, it envelopes her in his warmth and that intoxicating mix of cologne and seawater, and it makes her feel so heady and faint. She pulls it tight around her, and it’s almost as good as hugging him.

“Come on,” he says, and takes her hand.

They stumble up the dew-slick hill, Aradia tripping over her heels so many times that she finally unstraps them and dangles them from her free hand. The grass is cool and wet against her soles, and it makes her feel so alive.

The stars are brighter than she’s ever seen them before. They prick through the midnight sky, perforations in the atmosphere, so pure and white it’s almost painful. When she was little, Aradia read that there were stories written in the stars, and they’ll reveal themselves if someone stares long enough. She used to be obsessed with finding those secret midnight stories when she was little, staying up late to watch the moon rise and fall every night.

There’s a bench at the top of the hill, but Eridan pulls her straight down into the grass, the dew soaking through her tights quickly. She lays back and puts her head on his chest.

“This is better than that dance, right?” he asks her.

Aradia curls her fingers into his shirt. “Infinitely.”

They stare up at the sky together, cool breeze dancing across their skin and grass pricking into the backs of their thighs, and Aradia lifts one of her hands and begins to describe the stars to him.

“That’s the North Star,” she starts softly, pointing up at the brightest point almost directly above their heads. “And it’s part of the Big Dipper, and Ursa Major, but you can’t see that one right now. And over there to the left is Aries, the ram, which is my star sign.” She traces a curly pattern with her finger. “What month were you born in?”

“January,” Eridan says. “Why?”

Aradia grins. “You’re Aquarius. You’re right above us right now.” With her index finger, she draws two bent lines in the sky, trying to paint out the constellation. “Good news—we’re compatible.”

“How do you know all this star shit?” asks Eridan.

“I got bored when I was little. I read a lot of books.”

A bright spot streaks across the sky suddenly, cutting through Aries and Aquarius before it winks out over their heads, and they both gasp.

“Falling star,” Eridan says. “Make a wish, right?”

Aradia thinks about it for a long time without saying anything, watching the stars shine down on them, steady and bright. “I don’t need to,” she says finally.

He’s silent for an uncharacteristically long time, so long that Aradia turns her head to look up at him. He isn’t looking at her—he’s staring upwards blankly, not focused on anything, deep in thought.

“Ar?” he says.

“Yes?”

“I think I love you.”

In a way, she’d expected it, but what she hadn’t expected was the way all the breath was sucked from her lungs as soon as he said it.

Eridan still isn’t looking at her. She wants to know how his eyes looked the moment he said it. She needs to see those eyes—those gorgeous, ethereal purple eyes, those eyes that mean everything to her.

She reaches up and tilts his chin down so that he looks at her. And then she says “I think I love you, too.”

And she knows it’s true. It might not be perfect, storybook love—the eternal fairytale kind that makes knights slay dragons and men start wars and the kind that gets books of poetry and legends and history written about it. But it _is_ teenage love, pure and intense and unblemished and completely, one hundred percent true. And maybe that innocent, unadulterated love is the most important kind of all.

His eyes light up, and he is the most beautiful thing Aradia has ever seen.

It’s eternity wrapped in a single moment—time paused just for them, the only ones that matter anymore, and it’s magic, the kind of moment everyone dreams of. She never wants to let go.

And then Eridan’s eyes spark to life in the way Aradia’s come to realize means he has an idea. “Hold on,” he says, and pulls himself to his feet. “I just thought a somethin’. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“What?” Aradia asks dumbly, her mind still stuck in that moment and racing to catch up. “What did you think of?”

“The perfect song,” he says simply before running off down the hill.

Aradia sits up, her dew-wet skirt clinging to her skin, and waits, drawing Eridan’s jacket close around herself. A couple minutes later, he reappers and extends his hand to help her up.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, right as the drumbeat starts blasting from his car stereo at the bottom of the hill.

It’s a song they both know. It’s a song they’ve heard together before, and it’s a song that Aradia listens to constantly, because it makes her feel young and elated and alive, even if she doesn’t quite understand why. And it’s not slow—it’s the opposite—but everything about it was made for this very moment.

She threads her fingers through his and they sway to the beat, singing along, and Aradia closes her eyes. She feels everything acutely. It is the first time she has ever let herself feel so much, and she feels everything. She feels immortal.

He squeezes her hands, and she laughs even though he said nothing, and he kisses her, and it is everything she ever dreamed of and more. And this hill, this sky, these stars, this song, these hands are love. Everything in this moment is love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song at the end is sugar, we're goin' down by fall out boy, which i'm sure a few of you figured out, seeing as this entire story links back to that song multiple times :p  
> this is definitely not the last eriara fic i will be writing. i'm working on a couple right now, quite a lot featuring them alongside some other pairings and one or two focusing solely on eridan and aradia again. keep an eye out for those soon!  
> and finally, thank you so much for reading. i loved and valued every bit of feedback i got. thank you for motivating me and talking to me. i love you guys!  
> -sophie xo


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